The Perfect Match
by IlariaandSteph
Summary: Maximus loses his identity, and is captured by barbarians...Quintus and the Emperor's niece are captured too.
1. Default Chapter

By Ilaria and Stephanie

  
  
  
  


**The Perfect Match**

  
  


Germania, 176AD

  
  


1

The nights were very cold and long in Germania. After suffering through so many months of such nights, even the prospect of a conversation with the Emperor left General Maximus Decimus Meridius uncheered. He missed his wife and son, and his sense of loneliness had grown to cast a shadow over everything he did. Only sleep brought relie. Then he could visit his little family in his dreams and pretend that the war was already over.

In his tent Maximus dropped to his knees in front of a little shrine and murmured his prayers to his ancestors. Then he picked up the tiny figurine of his son, Marcus, and whispered, "My little boy, how are you? Are you still trying to ride the dog? Be patient! One or two years more and you will be able to ride a pony... _A pony_, Marcus! The next time that I am home we will go the fair and choose it....It will be the most beautiful pony of all the province. What do you think?" Maximus closed his eyes and, in his mind, he heard his son's delighted laughter. Smiling slightly, he opened his eyes again and put the statue back in its place, trading it for the image of his wife. "My dearest Selene, beloved wife, I miss you so much... Almost two years have passed from the last time we saw each other and I can't express to you how I long to be with you again... I want to smell your hair, to kiss your skin, to hear you whisper in my ear, I want to..." Maximus stopped to talk to gently caress the wooden figurine with his fingertips and then kissed it almost reverently, but the action gave him no comfort. It only made his longing deeper. He needed to go home, to be close to his family, and to live as a farmer... With luck, it would be soon, but the northern tribes were too aggressive, and too unpredictable to allow the General to leave the frontier for more than a few weeks. And so he stayed, doing his duty as he had always done.

The strain as beginning to show.

Maximus rose reluctantly and walked to his bed. He needed rest. The next morning would be a trying day. The emperor, Marcus Aurelius, was arriving at the camp, and the young general was anxious to prove his competence in handling his new command. 

It was not just professional pride that motivated Maximus' desire to please the emperor. Years before, the general- then a mere lieutenant- and the Emperor's daughter, Lucilla had been in love. Theirs had been a passionate, bittersweet affair- so typical of young romance. For a few, beautiful winter months the Spaniard had tasted love for the first time. It didn't matter that Lucilla was a princess and he, a mere "new man" from the provinces, struggling to prove himself in battle. He had dreamed that they could share a future together…but then, at the emperor's word, those dreams had come crashing down. 

Maximus was older now. He could appreciate why the emperor had sent Lucilla so suddenly back to Rome. He could see, from a logical, political perspective why the girl's marriage to Lucius Verus had been so important.It was all for the best. He loved Selene, princess or not. He was happy. But his pride had still been wounded. A part of him longed to make Caesar think, for just a moment "_If only_...." as he had so often himself.

  
  


*

  
  


Maximus woke before dawn the next morning, anxious to reinspect the camp and meet with his officers one last time before the ruler arrived. The men gathered in the command tent, picking at a breakfast that the servants had prepared, a few of them threatening to nod off at every lull in the conversation.

After the meeting, only the chief Legatus, Quintus Clarus, remained. He had been with the general since they were both boys, running errands for General Claudius in their first campaign against the Germans. Only Quintus knew the whole story about Lucilla, and so he was more indulgent than the rest to Maximus' frantic preparations.

Maximus studied his friend carefully as he chewed a piece of honeycake. It was remarkable how different the two men were. While the Spaniard was powerfully built with dark hair and golden skin, his friend was lighter and more compact. Maximus had hailed from the provinces, while his friend was a true Roman - the son of an up and coming member of the _Ordo Equestor_ who traded in grains that farms like the Spaniard's produced. Maximus was a natural leader, while Quintus was a natural soldier. Maximus was a family man. The army was Quintus' love.

That morning, the last difference seemed the most significant. Still reminiscing about Lucilla, Maximus wondered idly if Quintus had ever been in love. Surely Maximus would have known, but he could not recall the Legate ever having mentioned one woman more than the rest. This was not to imply that his friend was chaste- the Spaniard grinned to remember how his friend used to scramble to remember the names of the farmer's daughters who rushed to greet him on the army's return to their little towns. There seemed to be a different one in each city and, though he was sometimes jealous, Maximus was glad that he did not have the stress of keeping them straight! Quintus was older now, and too focused on his career to indulge in such behavior, but his friend hoped that he would take the time someday to experience a relationship like the one that he shared with Selene.

_Selene_. Maximus' smile deepened as he thought of his wife. She was everything he had dreamed of in a woman- gentle, loyal, hardworking- every day spent without her made Maximus more anxious to return home. 

Maximus was still lost in his thoughts when his servant, Cicero entered the room and bowed politely.

"General, the emperor has just arrived."

  
  
  
  


2

  
  


The Imperial carriage was impressive from the outside, but on the inside, it was just as uncomfortable, and just as boring as any other wheeled conveyance. There was nothing to do for days on end other than lie on soft couches and hope that your traveling companion had something interesting to say. The emperor had become so accustomed to roaming across the empire in this fashion that he had almost come to enjoy the solitude of the rides - there was nothing he loved more than to curl up with a scroll of philosophy and lose himself in the mind of Seneca and other great philosophers, but his fellow traveler, his niece, Antonia, was very bored.

Antonia's presence on the journey had been hastily arranged, and Marcus hoped that she did not regret her decision to come. She had been recently widowed and, though she did not mourn her elderly, ill-matched husband, the vexation of her return to the palace, and the pressure to marry again, had made Rome tiresome for her. He hoped that the change in scenery would do her good-Not that Marcus himself wasn't thinking of her marriage! Just hours after he learned of his niece's husband's death, he received a letter from the General of the Felix Legions inviting him to conduct an inspection. An idea had come to Caesar in a bolt of inspiration: Maximus was his most promising General- a possible successor to the emperorship someday. Antonia was his most beloved niece. What better way to bring the Spaniard into his inner-circle, while insuring his own line's succession to the throne than an alliance between the pair? 

Antonia and Maximus must marry. Marcus Aurelius had invited her to Germania with no other purpose in mind.

Smiling at his own cleverness, the Emperor spent the last hours of their travel reviewing the plan within his head. Of course the General would desire the girl. She was as beautiful as Venus herself. In spite of her unhappy marriage, Antonia had only improved with age. At 22, she was twice as lovely as she had been as a 17 year old bride. Her figure had settled into the delightful contrasts of tapered limbs and ample curves. Her once blonde hair had darkened into bronze, spun through with gold, and her smile, though rarer, was just as lovely as ever. Caesar did not doubt that the attraction would run both ways. Maximus was a handsome man, with a powerful masculinity that women seemed to find irresistible- and after the five awful years with her husband, Antonia was bound to be pleased with a man her own age. There might be small problems- for one thing, Maximus was already married- but Marcus anticipated that they would be easily overcome. He doubted that Maximus loved his wife. The woman was a provincial- uneducated, inelegant, and hardly a match for Antonia on any level. The emperor doubted that Maximus had loved her to begin with- they were married only months after the man had lost Lucilla.

_Lucilla._

Marcus frowned as he recalled the incident, wondering if Maximus held a grudge. The general had only been a boy when the relationship had ended, an assistant to one of the legates- barely worthy of Ceasar's notice if not for his unmistakable promise. Lucilla had been betrothed, to Lucius Verus, Marcus' co-ruler, almost as soon as her father had become the emperor. It was important. It was her duty, and had to outweigh a teenage infatuation.

Even if the General's feelings were stung, Marcus took comfort in the knowledge that he would more than make up for any insult soon. Everything would work out better than any of them had hoped. Lucilla was happy in Rome with a small son. With any luck, Antonia and Maximus could celebrate the birth of twins in nine short months.

It was going to work.

Marcus Aurelius was certain.

  
  


*

  
  


"Caesar." Maximus bent his head downward in reverence as the purple-clad emperor stepped down from the carriage and into the center of the camp The general was amazed at how much the other man seemed to have become in the few years since they had last met. Marcus' hair was white now, and the short steps from the carriage to the ground seemed to strain his aged frame. 

Maximus was about to lead his guest to the Praetorium when he saw the emperor reach back into the carriage.

"And now." Caesar had said with a smile. "Let me introduce my surprise...."

A hand had appeared from the dim interior- a distinctly feminine hand. Just for a moment, Maximus had felt the sickening certainty that it would belong to Lucilla, as though his early morning musings had somehow conjured her to life- but his fears were not realized. The woman who stepped from the shadows was just as dazzling as the emperor's daughter, and though she seemed familiar, the general did not know her name.

"Maximus?" The familiarity of her hail made him frown in puzzlement. Where had they met before? 

A smile broke across the woman's features. "Don't you recognize me? It's Antonia..._Antonia Claudia_- I'm all grown up!"

In a rush, the general's memories came back, and a smile that was equal parts relief and nostalgia replaced his look of concern. "It couldn't be- you look like _a girl_." He teased.

The woman seemed amused by the joke.

Antonia Claudia. The transformation truly was remarkable. Maximus had not seen the woman in 12 years- since she was a child and he a very young man himself. She was the daughter of Maximus' beloved commander, General Claudius.

Although Claudius had received his position by virtue of marrying the then-Caesar Antonius Pious' daughter, Claudius had been the most gifted commander that Maximus had ever known. In Maximus' opinion only time and circumstances- in particular the lack of any pressing wars to fight- had prevented the man from making a mark on Roman military history as bold as Scipio Africanus or Julius Caesar himself. Everything the Spaniard had learned about command had come from his mentor's mouth. He had worshiped him as a hero.

Claudius' wife had died very young, and Antonia, his only child, had come to be a fixture at the camp. Her tenure had started as a brief visit but, in the end, her father had determined that he could not bear to part with her. After a while, the men of the Felix Legion wondered what they had ever done without their pretty, precocious little mascot. She was her father's shadow, attending every duty except his fights in battle. She haunted the stables, played quietly in the corner of every officer's meeting, and rode on the front of the General's saddle at each inspection. She polished her father's armor worshipfully and, much to the amusement of the fellow officers, commented on tactics as though she knew what she were saying. In the end, her dedication to her father had almost deadly consequences. During the siege of the _oppidium_ at Augusta Vindelicorum, General Claudius had ridden into battle and not returned. Antonia escaped from her nurse and went to search for her _tata_ on her own. They had found her the next morning, barely alive, lying in the snow next to her father's corpse. 

Maximus frowned as he remembered the wailing little girl being drug to the carriage that 

would return her to Rome. Her nurse, relieved to escape from the camp at last, had tried to cheer her with tales of the finery she would wear and the parties she would see. She was nearly a princess, and would be living in the palace with her uncle- but the girl had been inconsolable.

The army was her home. 

Maximus was happy that she had returned at last, even though he was surprised to see, in spite of her protests, how much she had changed.

  
  


Remembering of his manners, Maximus bowed to the emperor and to his guest and then gestured with his hand, "If you want to follow me, Caesar, Antonia, I will show you your quarters."

Marcus Aurelius nodded and as the General began to lead he and Antonia through the Praetorium, a satisfied grin creased his aged features. Distracted by the thousand nagging problems of the Empire, he had forgotten that Maximus and Antonia already knew each other. Seeing their reunion, and noting that they seemed to get along so well already had been a beautiful surprise. Caesar was certain that his plan was destined for success.

  
  


*

  
  


Before stepping inside the tent, Antonia stopped and took another deep breath, hoping to avoid being overwhelmed by the memories that washed over her at the sight on the military camp.

Twelve years.

For twelve years she had been cloistered away in the opulent, but stifling palace. At last she felt as though she were home. The tart smell of men and dirt and horses was like perfume to her nose, and the steady clank of metal from the ferrier's like a soothing heartbeat that calmed her ragged nerves. Being asked to come here by the emperor had been like a lovely dream- she had barely believed her good fortune when her uncle had suggested the journey, and each weary mile between Rome and the German frontier seemed to take an eternity as she neared her destination.

Antonia smiled a bit as Maximus took her arm and led her into the Praetorium. He had been like a doting older brother to her many years ago, showering her with little gifts and generous praise. Her father had seen his potential and always kept the man close by teaching him what he could, and offering guidance in his career. Claudius' daughter was proud to see what Maximus had become: a general, strong and proud, all of the things that she, as a Roman, admired the most. 

"...weren't expecting a lady..." the General's half-mumbled apology brought Antonia back to attention. 

She grinned faintly. "I hardly require any accommodation. Don't you still

have my rug stored away somewhere?"

Maximus smiled, remembering how the girl used to fall asleep at the feet of the officers when they played dice after dinner. "Somewhere." He answered gamely. "But I think the emperor would prefer we gave you a bed." He stopped at the door to the little ante-chamber where he and Quintus sometimes gathered for drinks or conversation and gestured for the Emperor to enter.

"Caesar." He said respectfully, waiting for the older man to select a seat. He took Antonia's hand again and led her to a chair as well. "Antonia."

The trio sat in silence for a moment, their expressions twisted into awkward, if happy smiles. They were pleased to be in each other's company, but the formality that seemed appropriate in the presence of the Emperor stunted conversation, and so they merely stared at each other until the assistant commander appeared.

"Caesar." Legatus Clarus bowed deeply. "General." He nodded his head in acknowledgment. "And-"

Quintus Clarus caught his breath. The woman sitting in front of him was the most exquisite creature that he had ever seen. A princess, obviously- making this note, he adjusted his expression so that it reflected merely friendliness, rather than outright awe... 

"Antonia." Maximus supplied quickly, enjoying the look of momentary confusion that clouded the man's features. "Don't you remember, Quintus? Little Antonia Claudia."

Quintus blinked, and then he groaned inwardly. 

_Oh,no..._

3__

  
  


Unknown to Maximus, Marcus Aurelius, Antonia and the rest of the Roman _castrum_ (camp), a pair of green eyes was surveying the scene not far away.

Hidden between the bushes on a little hill, a young woman was watching the happenings in the Praetorium with a mixture of fascination and fear. Her fingers twisted nervously in her intricately braided chestnut hair as she observed the arrival of the imperial carriage. It was massive and surrounded by a swarm of black-clad soldiers. Its appearance was so frightening that it had distracted Hildegarde from her task of collecting medical herbs and berries.

This was not the first time that Hildegarde stopped to observe the Roman camp. She was not spying for her people, she simply felt a great curiosity about the feared invaders, and especially about the man who commanded them. She had seen the powerfully built, dark-bearded man for the first time only few months before. She had run across him at the edge of the camp which bordered the forest while he was tenderly nursing a new born foal whose mother had died. Hildegarde had been impressed by the gentleness of the Roman's gestures. She had scaled a nearby tree and watched him until he went away, his voice and his handsome looks echoing in her mind for many nights. After the encounter, she had made a habit of watching for him during her errands in the woods. Sometimes, as today, she even ventured near the camp.

As the Roman commander and the newcomers disappeared in the tent, Hildegarde rose from her hiding place and turned back into the thick forest, picking up her overflowing basket of herbs. The time for daydreaming was over. It was time for her to return home and help her mother prepare medicines.

  
  


*

  
  


The walk to her village was long and difficult, requiring the girl to ford a wide stream and scale a steep cliff, but Hildegarde had made the journey so many times that she was able to complete it in only two hours.

As she walked along the center of her little village, she saw other members of the tribe lower their eyes and change directions, while the women called their children back in their homes. The young woman was used to such behavior, and should have been numb to its effects, but her heart still twinged with pain every time that it happened. 

Hildegarde and her mother had lived as outcasts in a hut in the far corner of the village for nearly ten years, when disgrace had fallen upon them through the actions of her father...That winter, while most of the tribes were starving through a year of famine and endless siege, he had betrayed his people to the Romans, telling them where the tribe's precious supplies - dwindling stores of food and weapons- were stored. Since he was a member of the council, he knew the plans for a scheduled attack, and revealed these as well, causing the death of hundred of Germans. His actions had not been to save his people from starvation, or merely to spare his own life, but also to secure some lands further south in the Roman empire where he could ensure his own prosperity. Hildegarde remembered, as it were yesterday, how he looked as he rode away alongside the enemy, leaving his wife and daughter behind, uncaring of their fate. 

The fact that she and her mother were still alive, was due solely to their gifts as healers, skills the tribe desperately needed, because of the constant war and continuing hunger.

Hildegarde sighed as she arrived home at last. She wiped the mud from her feet and then pulled back the covering on the door, disappearing inside her little hut, safe from the harsh glances and the half-whispered insults for a few hours more.

  
  
  
  


4

  
  


Maximus remained with the Emperor and Antonia for the better part of the day. Quintus had stayed with the group for only a short while, tending to business in the camp during the general's absence. Maximus was relieved to finally steal away and join him. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy the company- he had far too few distractions here along the frontier- however, Antonia's quiet, feminine presence had only exacerbated his longing for his wife. He wanted to get away and find Selene again in his dreams.

"Maximus!" Quintus looked concerned as he approached the commander. "I was about to come and find you."

"Yes?" The general tilted his head, noticing for the first time the muddy scout that Clarus was dragging behind him. "What is it?"

"News from the front, sir." The tired looking legionnaire stepped forward, his weariness accenting his words. "Two of our spies assigned to the Quadi have gone missing, and the men we sent after them found the village completely deserted. All of the Southern tribes seem to be collecting their belongings and heading out."

"All of them?" Maximus frowned. "Does this mean-?"

"Yes sir." The subordinate soldier anticipated the general's line of thought. "They might be massing for an assault. News seems to be moving down the river. We don't have any idea yet which direction they are heading."

The look of displeasure on the commander's face deepened. "Have they reached the Brown Bear's tribe?" He asked, thinking of the little village which sat only a two hour march from the camp.

"No, sir. At least, not that we can tell."

Maximus had many more questions that he wanted to ask the man, but he could read the look of exhaustion in his face. The Spaniard had confidence that, whatever the tribes were planning, they weren't ready to act on it yet- they still had a lot of distance to cover before they amassed enough manpower to threaten the mighty legions. He would let the soldier rest and speak with him again in the morning.

"Thank you. You're dismissed. I'll expect a more detailed report in the morning."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." The scout saluted gratefully and then backed away from the tent.

Maximus stared after him, mulling over the meaning behind the information in his mind.

  
  


*

  
  


Because it was clear that the General had decided to defer action on the problem until the morning, Quintus left the command tent quickly and headed through the Praetorium to his own quarters. He was so lost in thoughts that he had almost collided with Antonia before he recognized her presence.

"Legatus." She said neutrally, stepping out of the way.

"My lady." He murmured with equally ambiguous intonation. Antonia Claudia was the last person he had expected to see stepping out of the emperor's carriage, and the distraction was far from welcome. He didn't affirmatively hate the girl- if anything, she should hate HIM, but she did make him uneasy. She called to mind the worst version of himself- the way he had behaved when he was barely more than a boy- something he had worked very hard for the past few years to forget. 

Antonia had been in love with him. At least, she had claimed to be in love with him. With a single, offhand smile passing by her outside the Praetorium one April morning, he had called down all the passion and angst of a pre-teen crush, and he had not handled it well....Quintus sighed as he remembered that spring of so many years ago, as Antonia had tried on him all the 'seduction' techniques her teen-aged mind and heart could muster. She was always near him, angling for a seat at his feet even when he met with her father, and she always found new ways to spend time with him. 

Quintus remembered clearly one day when she had arrived asking him if he was willing to help her with her studies. It had been an innocent request and he had answered positively.

She had picked up a _volumen_ and told him she needed to learn how to read the verse of a poem with the appropriate metric cadence. Quintus had taken the scroll, wanting to read a passage to show her how it was done, but after few verses he had stopped, stunned by what he was reading. A quick glance to the title informed him Antonia had given him a copy of Ovid's _'Ars Amandis', _the most scandalous book of his age- and surely not the genre of reading Antonia's tutor would choose. The young soldier had turned to the girl and caught her dreaming glance, suddenly understanding what was going on. After that day he had tried to avoid Antonia because he did not want to reject her openly, but his efforts were all in vain. So certain of her young love, she would not be deterred.

It had ended at last only when he had sent the girl back to her tent crying. His actions had not been intentional...Antonia had simply burst into his tent while he was kissing one of the of the camp followers. Quintus had not idea how long that the girl had stayed there and watched them, he only knew that suddenly the quiet of the place had been shattered by sobs and turning his head he had seen her young face streaked with tears. "Antonia..." he had started to say, reaching for her, wanting to explain, but the girl had escaped, running through the camp all the way to her father's tent. 

Quintus had watched her go with a mixture of relief and guilt. Relief because it was finally ended, guilt because it had ended so badly. 

He had never wanted to hurt her. And unfortunately that was only the beginning of a terrible period for Antonia. Only ten day later, General Claudius was killed in battle and the girl was forced to leave the place she called home for Rome.

Quintus had felt guilty for a long time, berating himself for ruining what should have been her last happy days in the camp, but with time he had come to realize it was all for the best. A clean cut takes less time to heal. 

All these thoughts flashed through Quintus' mind as he took note almost unconsciously of the beautiful woman she had become. She too seemed to study him, especially the scar on his forehead, caused by a barbarian's stone nearly 5 years before.

"Excuse me." Quintus murmured, taking a half-step past.

"Excuse me." Antonia echoed. 

And then she walked away.

  
  
  
  


5

  
  


"There you are!" Hildegarde's mother always seemed to be peeking her head out the door at precisely the same instant that her daughter was coming home. The girl lowered her head. She was late, and from the look on her face, it was clear that the older woman knew precisely where her daughter had been.

"I got the herbs." She said, pushing the brimming basket forward in the hopes of avoiding another fight.

"I see." The woman's eyes narrow. "I suppose that you had to go far to find them."

"The patch at the edge of the lake is thinning." Hildegarde lied easily. "I thought it would be better to find a new source."

"Hrm..." Was the only answer, and the younger girl suddenly wished that her mother had yelled at her- the strange acceptance was unnerving. "You had a visitor this afternoon."

A groan. So that was it- Godeoc had come calling for her again.

Hildegarde had conflicted feelings about her tribesman's attempts at courtship. On one hand, it was a relief- for so many seasons she had watched the other girls in the camp take husbands and birth children of their own. She had watched, enviously, as the young women followed the broad backed warriors into their little huts and emerged, as if on schedule, at the end of the snows with a rounded belly and a smiles on their faces. How she longed to have a baby of her own, and a husband- someone to share the lonely nights, but she knew, too well, that such a thing was unlikely. Her father's treason had soiled her too deeply. No one wanted to sully themselves with an association.

No one before Godeoc.

Hildegarde sighed as she thought about him. She should have been pleased with the attention. He was a brave warrior. A fine hunter. A widower- respected, and with two sons and a grown daughter of his own. The village had been shocked when he had appeared at the healers' hut to inquire about the unwed girl. Hildegarde's mother had been ecstatic, and the girl herself had felt, for the first time in many years, hope that her loneliness would end. But there was simply no spark. She had tried to fall in love with him, painfully aware that she might not get another chance at romance, but she had failed. She had too passionate a nature to pretend things that she did not feel. 

Hildegarde sighed again and lowered her eyes as she sat on the ground and began to methodically separate the various types of herbs. 

Her mother watched her work for some minutes before shaking her head. She loved her daughter so much. She was only good thing to come from her marriage, but the girl's passionate, romantic nature was going to create her more problems than give her benefits. The older woman was not insensitive or cruel: she too had wanted love when she was younger and she thought that she had found it in Hildebrand's arms. He had been dashing and charming and she had fallen for him almost at once, but he had never truly loved her nor their daughter...not even his people. Godeoc was everything Hildebrand had never been: reliable, wise, a true son of their tribe. Of course he was a bit old for Hildegarde and not very attractive but he was the reality while the Roman commander her daughter seemed to like so much was only a dream ...or a nightmare. The sooner the girl realized it the better....Godeoc was not going to wait forever.

  
  


*

  
  


That evening Marcus Aurelius began his 'campaign' to have Maximus fall for Antonia and vice-versa. Since his niece had retired early because she was tired from the travel, and since he had the opportunity to speak with Maximus alone, the Emperor decided to investigate the man's feelings about his marriage. 

"So Maximus, how much time had passed since the last time you visited your home?" he asked, sipping a bit of his wine.

Sitting in a chair in front of the Emperor, Maximus swirled the wine in his cup and replied, "Almost two years." 

"It is a lot of time." Marcus Aurelius commented neutrally.

"Yes." Maximus sighed deeply and then blushed as he realized the Emperor had heard him.

"You seem troubled Maximus: is it because of the tribes?… or something else?"

"No...it does not concern the tribes, we are ready to reply to any possible attack." Maximus reassured quickly his monarch.

"So?" Marcus Aurelius quirked an eyebrow.

"I...Forgive me, Caesar, but it is...private. It concerns my wife..my family." Maximus turned his head away, unable to voice aloud his loneliness and his desire to go home, if only for a little while. He was speaking with the Emperor of Rome, a man who had in his hands the destiny of millions of people, who was confronted every day with enormous decisions....How could he bother him with such a small matter?

"I understand." replied Marcus Aurelius, patting his knee. Then he added, "Why don't we call an end to the evening? I am sorry to admit the travel had exhausted me and I bet you rose before dawn to inspect your camp-" He grinned and Maximus replied with a smile, "-and so we are both dog tired. Our discussion about the Marcomanni and Quadi can wait till tomorrow morning."

The General nodded and stood up. "I agree, Caesar. I wish you a pleasant night. And please let me know if you need anything."

"Don't worry, Maximus, I have everything I need. Good night."

"Good night." Marcus Aurelius waited until Maximus exited the tent before letting a slow smile appear on his face; his predictions had been right, Maximus was really unhappy with his marriage, his pain an almost tangible feeling. The Emperor was a bit sad for the younger man -- after all, he cared for him very much -- but if all went how he had planned, in few months Maximus' sadness about his married status would be only a memory.

  
  
  
  


6

  
  


"Caesar?"

Maximus nodded his head sheepishly as he entered the small room of the

Praetorium where Marcus Aurelius was settling down to lunch. The general tugged at his tunica nervously. He was late. The servant who had delivered the invitation had insisted that he wear his full regimentals. Maximus hadn't yet determined whether this was a request of the emperor, or merely the busybody request of an imperial retainer overly impressed with his own grasp of protocol but the Spaniard was not willing to take any chances.

Assembling the appropriate medals and _armillae_ had taken Cicero longer than expected. Maximus hoped that the emperor would understand the delay.

"Maximus." The Emperor said cheerily. He seemed to size up the man's appearance, and then nod approvingly. "How nice of you to join me .... how ...._terribly impressive_ you look." He added cryptically. Then, he gestured to the spread of food before them. "Come, join me for lunch."

Still uncertain, Maximus did as he was told. He waited for the ruler to select his own food before choosing from among the simplest of the dishes.

"Excellent!" Marcus Aurelius declared. He seemed to look to his companion for agreement in the opinion, and Maximus nodded. 

"Yes, sire. Delicious."

"My niece selected everything you know. Wonderful taste...and so comfortable in the camp. A woman's touch certainly makes life on the frontier more bearable, doesn't it?"

The general arched an eyebrow, not really sure what the older man was 

Getting at. "Yes." He said after a pause.

"Antonia was raised at a Legionary outpost, you know."

"Yes, Caesar." Maximus nodded. "I knew her. I served under her father, General Claudius."

"Excellent man."

Maximus could agree this time with feeling. "Yes, sire. A genius. It was a privilege to serve with him."

"A pity he never had a son."

"Yes."

"Of course, his excellent daughter more than makes up for that, I suppose." 

Maximus grinned. "Yes, sire. I'm sure that Antonia could take the field if we needed her." He grinned at the notion, his remarks only half in jest. 

Encouraged by the joke, the emperor continued. "Perhaps Antonia will have a son someday and give the dear General the heir he deserves...." He looked up, carefully gauging the other man's expression. "I wonder what kind of son _you_ and Antonia might have had together."

Maximus blinked. He and Antonia together...what an odd suggestion. He wasn't thinking....But then, the emperor's lips curled up in a smile and Maximus relaxed. He was imagining things.

"I'd hate to be the German that had to fight him, sire." He answered with a smile.

Both men took a drink of wine, and there was silence for a moment.

"Are you ever lonely here, Maximus?" The emperor said at last, reaching for a clutch of grapes.

The general could not hide the truth from his eyes. "Yes, sire. Terribly."

"It's a hard life, I think."

"A good life, but hard. Yes, sir."

"It would be better to have someone to talk to who understood the conditions you live in."

"Oh, there are three or four thousand men here who know exactly the sorts of conditions I live in." Maximus answered with another grin. "It'd be nicer to have one who didn't understand but had a pretty figure and smelled--"

"Uncle?"

Maximus' voice died as he turned toward the doorway. Antonia was standing there. Like the general, she was clad in over-formal attire. She had on a sheer blue dress with a deep V neck trimmed in gold. A gold cord crossed between her breasts, and then tied at the waist. Her hair was held back by a sapphire-embellished tiara. 

"Antonia." The older man rose partially from his chair and gestured for her to enter the room. "What a pleasant surprise to see you in this part of the Praetorium at this time of day...."

"Surprise?" Confusion distorted the girl's pretty features. "But your servant told me to--"

"Join us!" The emperor spoke over the girl.

She hesitated. "I'll call a servant to bring a chair."

"Nonsense!" He grinned. "There's plenty of room on the General's couch. Maximus, you won't mind sharing with a pretty girl, surely."

Maximus swallowed, uncomfortably. He WOULD mind. It was just barely proper for women to recline on couches as they dined to begin with, but to share a couch with a married man....

He could tell that Antonia was against the idea as well. "Really, uncle" She continued warily "...it would be no trouble just to-"

"I insist." His voice was surprisingly firm. 

Antonia gave Maximus an apologetic look and then lowered herself onto the couch. 

"No, not like that!" The emperor sighed as his niece leaned to the left, intending to align her body in the opposite direction of the general. "My dear, you won't be able to join our conversation at all...That's right...." He encouraged as she reluctantly shifted position. "Maximus is a married man. I daresay he's snuggled up to a beautiful woman...Though, perhaps not as beautiful as you."

Maximus forced a smile, unwilling to insult his wife with agreement and unwilling to contradict the emperor with denial.

"There now."

Maximus struggled awkwardly to reach his plate without touching Antonia.

She was lying on her side directly in front of him now. He could smell the herbs of the oil that she used to wash her hair, and feel the heat radiating though the thin fabric of her dress.

"Would you pass the quail?" Marcus said to no one in particular, and as a result, both Maximus and Antonia reached at the same instant, their bodies colliding softly, and their limbs tangling in confusion as each tried to get out of the other's way.

Antonia flushed with embarrassment as the general completed the task, then moved away once more.

"Well, Antonia, how are you enjoying yourself so far?" The emperor said after they were settled down again.

"Very well." Her muscles relaxed somewhat. "It feels like I am home again."

"Yes. I am sure that the fresh air will be good for your health....not that Antonia was ever unhealthy!" Her uncle quickly explained. "True, she hasn't had a baby yet, but that's hardly her fault. I'd say the right man will have you pregnant soon enough."

"Uncle!"

Antonia was scarlet now, even te back of her neck, directly in the line of the general's vision, was flamed with embarrassment.

Maximus looked at the girl, and then at her uncle, suspicion finally hatching with a feeling of nauseousness in the pit of his stomach. 

"We were speculating earlier on what fine sons Maximus might be able to make with you." The emperor laughed and the general, for Antonia's sake, forced a smile, but inside he was fighting a sense of panic. Why hadn't he noticed it before? Marcus Aurelius wasn't idly speculating on what sort of offspring the youngsters might have. He was actually planning it! 

"Your majesty, I...er...." Maximus started to rise from the couch.

"You aren't leaving!" It was an order. "We've only just begun... Surely there's nothing so urgent as to deprive you of some pleasant company and conversation."

"The....Germans..." Maximus murmured, suddenly feeling very hot.

"Yes. The Germans." The emperor grinned merrily. "Which reminds me- I asked one of the tribunes to prepare a briefing for me at noon and it has completely slipped my mind... General, I'm sure that I can trust you to entertain my niece while I attend to it....don't bother moving, I'll be right back..."

Maximus opened his mouth to protest again, but nothing came out. In a flash, the emperor was gone. He and Antonia were alone.

  
  


After several torturous moments of embarassed silence, the lunch came to its end. Both parties lingered unhappily- unsure if the emperor had given them permission to leave. Caesar appeared at the end, disheartened to find both his companions silent- and sitting as far apart as circumstances would allow. Still, he perservered until a servant -- to Maximus' and Antonia's great relief-- came near the general and whispered in his ear. Maximus' head snapped up and, after quickly cleaning his mouth he stood up, "Excuse me, Caesar, but the scouts have just returned. I must hear their reports."

"Go, Maximus, go, you don't need to excuse yourself to do your job." 

Marcus Aurelius was not entirely pleased about how his efforts to push his niece in the general's arms were going, but he was willing to bid his time and the military matters had to come first.

Maximus bowed to Antonia and left the tent.

  
  


*

  
  


The scouts were waiting for Maximus in the tent they used for briefing. Quintus was already there, studying an unrolled map on the table.

"So, what is the news?" Maximus asked stepping inside after gesturing to the scouts that it was not necessary to snap in attention.

"The Quadi are covering their traces well, General. We have not be able to discover their final destination. We don't think they plan to attack this camp but there are marching north, to Castra Regina or maybe Augusta Treverorum." the legionary's voice was almost apologetic.

Maximus pursed his lips, clearly dissatisfied by the vagueness of the reports, he had hoped to have more precise news. The other scout began to speak, "However, sir, we may have a chace to learn more. While we were returning we met a barbarian along the road leading to this camp. The man stopped us and told us in sketchy Latin that he is willing to sell us information about the tribes' movements..."

Maximus' eyes lit up: he did not particularly like the traitors, even if he was aware the barbarians had a different code of honor from his own, but he knew that many Roman's victories had been acquired with the help of barbarian defectors. "And so? What did he say?"

The two legionaries looked at each other, "Sir, as I said his Latin his very bad. He was only able to tell us few sentences. We tried to speak with him but - aside from the sentences that we mentioned- he doesn't seem to speak anything else other than Quadi idiom and our translator had already returned..."

Maximus nodded, understanding the problem. The two scout in front of him were trained to spy the Marcomanni, not the Quadi, but the disappearance of the two informers originally assigned to the Quadi, had forced a quick change of plans.

"Where is this man?" the general asked.

"He is hidden in the woods three miles beyond this camp. He refused to come in the camp . Nothing we said was able to convince him."

Maximus nodded again and turned to his chief Legatus, "Quintus, would you please tell the groom to saddle my horse? I am going to ride out and meet this barbarian." At his friend's surprised glance he added, "It seems I am the only one able to understand his language."

In a flash Quintus remembered a winter of years before, when Maximus had become the object of a lot of teasing in the camp because he was paying a camp follower not for her 'services' but because he wanted her to teach him her language. He rememberer how his friend defended himself from the jokes, stating that he wanted to know more about the enemy -giving rise to a while new set of bemused remarks.....But now it seemed it was Maximus' turn to laugh.

Quintus bowed to Maximus, silently acknowledging his prescience, and walked away to alert the stables.

The general turned to the scouts, "Wait for me in the stables; I am going to inform the Emperor and then I will join you."

The legionaries nodded and the three men left the tent together.

  
  
  
  


7

  
  


A hour and half later Maximus, the two scouts and five soldiers acting as an escort were riding in the woods, searching for the place were the spies had left the barbarian. The forest was very thick and the trees were maddeningly similar and so the scouts took a long time to find the exact spot, a little clearing surrounded by bushes.

"German!" one of the legionary called as Maximus looked around him. He did not like their position....there was something wrong in the air. He could not hear any bird singing…

The General's right hand had just begun to caress the bone and gold-inlaid hilt of his sword when a ruffled head and bearded face peeked up from behind a tree trunk at the far edge of the clearing.

"Soldier?" the man said with a harsh voice. "Want to speak? Me tell you things." 

His Latin was almost unintelligible and Maximus moved in the front, saying in the Quadi's language, "German, I speak your language. Come out so we can talk together."

The barbarian looked at the big man on the horse and, sensing his authority, left his hiding place. He had not taken more than two steps forward when an arrow arched through the sky, piercing his chest, and a voice shouted in Quadi , "DEATH TO THE TRAITOR! AND DEATH TO THE ROMAN DOGS!"

In the blink of an eye Maximus and his men were under a hail of arrows coming from the midst of the forest.

"Retreat! Retreat!" the general shouted as one of the legionaries fell to the ground, an arrow planted in his neck. The Romans turned their horses to escape but the forest seemed to swarm with barbarians armed with swords. They greatly outnumbered the Romans and Maximus felt desperation grip his guts as one by one his men were picked from their horses and killed. Suddenly he felt a jolt of pain in his right thigh and looking down he saw the stick of an arrow protruding from his leg. His wine-colored tunica was absorbing his blood but Maximus could feel its warmth coating his calf. Gritting his teeth with determination and assisted by his horse's courage, he dove forward into the barbarians surrounding him and unleashing sword blows to right and left, he was able to open an escape route from that place of carnage. When he was a safe distance away, Maximus stopped the horse and with a supreme effort broke the arrow stick, leaving only a small section attached to the point planted in his flesh. The pain was terrible but it allowed him more freedom of movement. At last, steeling himself, he resumed his escape.

As Argento galloped to the camp, Maximus began to feel light-headed for the blood loss and his balance on the saddle became unsteady. His limbs were weak, and the slickness of the blood on the leather made it even more difficult to hold his seat. The general grasped Argento' mane tightly as he struggled to remain upright, but when the horse stumbled over a hidden hole, there was no way for Maximus to avoid falling. He landed heavily on the ground and since the road was on a steep hillside he started to roll away, along a leaf-covered incline with little to break his fall. He crashed against bushes and young trees, before hitting his head against a rock. Maximus barely had time to utter a cry- and then all was black. 

  
  


*

  
  


Hildegarde was walking slowly among trees. In her hand she had the medicine chest but it was not a search for more herbs that had sent her to the forest, it had been her desire to find peace and a quiet place where be able to think. She had a choice to make. She had to decide wheather tell to Godeoc she was not ever going to marry him or if she would accept his courtship. She had to pick between the security and the respect Godeoc could offer her and her dreams of love. If she held onto them, she risked an entire lifetime alone. Hildegarde was so absorbed in her dilemma and in her doubts that she almost didn't see the loose horse galloping in her direction. It was the sound of its hooves that snapped her from her reverie and she jumped off the road quickly to let the beast thunder past. A bit shaken, the girl watched the animal and then frowned as she realized the horse had carried a saddle and a helmet. "A Roman horse." she thought as the image of the Roman commander who often appeared in her dreams flashed in her mind. Hildegarde began to walk again, wondering about the fate of the horse's lost rider. What happened to him? Was he alive? Was the soldier roaming the woods trying to find his beast? Was he coming in her direction, or toward her village? She felt a prickling of fear and decided to leave the road and use a little path below it. She walked down the hill and once more turned home, losing her mind in thought.

  
  


*

  
  


This time it was a moan to call Hildegarde back to reality.

She looked around her, noticing how the bushes covering the hillside had been ruined by something and then she gasped when she saw a scrap of red cloth and a flash of metal glinting behind a rock. The girl stopped, unsure about what do. Her healer instinct fought with her fear. A second moan helped her to decide. Slowly Hildegarde walked around the rock and gasped at the sight before her. As she had already guessed it was a Roman soldier- but what soldier! It was 'her' soldier! A brief glance to his blood covered face was enough for her to recognize him. He was lying on his back, his legs splayed awkwardly. One of his arms was on his chest and the other to his side. Hildegarde dropped her basket and knelt near him, touching his neck gently. The pulse was racing and his skin was soaked with cold sweat. The young woman knew that she need to ascertain his injuries before she could move him. Very gently she began to touch his face and his head until her fingers found a cut and a bump just over his brow, hidden by his hair. Hildegarde frowned: the cut was not deep enough to have caused his condition and she continued her exam, a little hindered by his armor, with all its unfamiliar buckles, straps and leather. In the end she saw the broken stick of wood protruding from his thigh and understood where the real problem was. She bared the leg and looked at the damage closely: the flesh around the wound was hot and swollen- a sure sign an infection was already setting in. Hildegarde quickly calculated how long it would take to her to return to her village, alert her mother and come back. There wasn't enough time. She had to act alone.

  
  



	2. Part 2

  
  


8

  
  


In the army camp Quintus was pacing back and forth inside the Praetorium, waiting for Maximus' and the other soldiers to return. The sun would set soon and he did not like the idea of his commander and friend being out in the wild in the darkness.

Suddenly the Legatus heard a commotion on the other side of the camp and saw the gates open. Quintus sighed in relief, happy that his worries had been unfounded but his good mood disappeared as quickly as it had arrived when he saw one of the sentries run in his direction, a worried and frightened expression on his face.

"Sir, something had happened to the General! His horse returned without him!"

"What?" Without waiting for confirmation, Quintus ran to the gates, where a group of soldiers had already begun to congregate. The nervous men moved aside to let Quintus pass to where Argento, Maximus' black stallion, was held in place by Cicero, the general's manservant. The Legatus examined the animal and swore under his breath when he saw dried blood on its coat and on the saddle. He looked up at the men surrounding him, and he saw two kinds of feeling mixed on their face: fear for their general -- an eloquent demonstration of how much Maximus was loved by his men -- and expectation for his own orders. They knew he was in charge now and they were ready to obey to him. Quintus did not know what to do...Send a search party? His heart wanted to do it, but his mind told him it was too risky now that the sun had all but disappeared behind the hills....He was still analyzing his options when Marcus Aurelius and his niece appeared.

"Legatus, what's going on? Where is Maximus?" 

  
  


*

  
  


Hildegarde worked quickly, thankful that years of experience under her mother's careful tutelage had granted her hands the ability to move almost subconsciously. She removed a little piece of flint from her belt and gathered a pile of dry leaves and twigs for a fire.

Were the Romans still here? For a moment, the fear that the invaders would see the smoke and come for her gave her pause, but another fevered whimper from her patient prodded her quickly back to action. She struck the flint against a stone, blowing gently to fan the sparks that fell on her little pile of kindling, and sighing with relief as a flame sprung obediently to life.

Still working at a frenzied pace, she drew the knife that she used to cut herbs out of her basket and wiped it clean against her skirts. Then, she reached again for the stranger's leg, tilting the metal forward to ease the arrow from his flesh. The tip was lodged deeply. She hoped that she was not too late.

At last, the arrowhead came loose. Without thinking, Hildegarde slipped the metal shard into her pocket. She held her knife against the flame, heating it until the warmth radiated into the hilt, and then held it against the trickling blood, recoiling slightly at the hiss of burning skin, grateful that her patient was not awake to feel the pain.

When she drew the knife away, the bleeding had slowed. The gaping wound was cauterized, and she turned her attention to other matters. The cut along his temple was shallow, but it warned of other dangers. He had fallen from the horse and hit his head. How much damage had it done? Would he regain consciousness? What would she do with him until he did? If she left him here, he would die. Wiping away the blood with the hem of her skirt, Hildegarde considered her options.

There was an abandoned hut not far from here. It had been used as a hunting lodge long ago, before the Romans had pushed her people to the north. She had run across it on one of her foraging expeditions, seeking shelter there from an April storm. She doubted that anyone else in her village knew of its existence. If she kept him there, there would be no need for the villagers to learn of his existence...and if he awakened, he would not be a danger to the tribe.

The young woman mentally calculated the distance in her mind. It would be a struggle, but she could make it.

  
  


*

  
  


Quintus looked from the emperor to Antonia and then sighed. He wished that he had more time to sort the information for himself before passing it on to the emperor, but he did not have that luxury. "It appears that the troops we sent to meet with the barbarian were attacked." He said evenly, "The evidence suggest that the general was wounded- he has not returned."

Both members of his audience took in sharp intakes of breath, and Quintus watched the look that passed between the pair with interest. He noticed, for the first time, how keen an interest in the general's affairs the young woman seemed to have. It was almost as if the emperor was encouraging them.

Almost as if...

"- immediately!"

Quintus blinked, and then blushed, embarrassed to admit that, lost in his speculation, he had not heard the emperor's last words. "Excuse me, Sire, I didn't quite catch the last part."

"I said that we will need to mount a search party for him immediately. Tonight. If they think that we will tolerate this sort of trickery, they are sadly mistaken." The old man's face was animated with righteous anger.

Quintus nodded.

"And I want one of your men to take Antonia back to Vindobona."

  
  


*

  
  


Hildegarde felt as though she had been walking forever when, barely trusting her weary eyes, she spotted the abandoned hut in a thicket of trees. She paused to rest a moment, dropping the edge of the long tree branch that she had covered with ferns and the Roman's cloak to fashion into a make-shift sled. The trip had taken hours. It was nearly sunset, and she realized with trepidation that her mother would be worried about her. What if she and the Roman were discovered?

Swallowing her doubts, Hildegarde pushed open the door to the hut, picked up the treelimb, and applied herself to the final steps of the journey. 

The hut was filthy, littered with cobwebs and the droppings of animals that had claimed it for their own. It was devoid of furniture and belongings save an unsteady table in the center of the room and a kettle that hung over the crumbling hearth. Thinking wearily of the work that still had to be done before she slept, the German pulled her patient into the rooms center, checked his skin once more for fever, and then set to work.

  
  


*

Back in the camp, the Emperor's niece made a little cry of indignation at the thought of being sent away so soon.

"But, uncle, I-"

Marcus lifted his hand in agitation, a gesture clearly foreclosing any protest. "I won't have you underfoot with a battle in the works."

"Underfoot!" Antonia grumbled, in a tone that implied, if given the chance, that she could wield a gladius as well as any legionnaire along the line....but she controlled her temper, seeing it was not the time to discuss with her uncle. More important matters claimed his attention.

  
  
  
  


9

In only a few minutes the search party was organized -- almost all the men milling around volunteered to go and Quintus had only to select the lucky handful who would be permitted to go and feel useful, leaving the rest behind, waiting for news. The Legatus decided to lead the squad himself, with the emperor's approval. He also decided to ride Argento in the hope that the horse would take him back to the place were Maximus been.

The squad party that left the camp was comprised of twenty men in full armor, carrying torches. Just after entering the trees, Quintus released Argento's reins and freed the animal to wander where it wanted, straining to notice any signal from the beast. Inside the woods it was already dark and the flames from the torches created subtle plays of shadow and light on the soldier's faces, highlighting their determinated expressions. After what seemed like an eternity, Argento slowed his gait and cocked his head, showing interest in the clump of brush on the left side of the road. Quintus raised his hand and the column stopped. Argento snorted and so did some of the other horses, disturbed by something. Quintus retook the reins, gripping them tightly. A vague sweetish smell reached his nose...a smell he knew all too well: the smell of blood. Unsheathing his sword he directed the horse toward the brush, closely followed by the other soldiers. It took them few moments to reach a clearing among the trees and see the terrible scene in front of them. Many corpses were lying on the ground, some of them already victims of the wild animals. Quintus dismounted, imitated by half of his men, while the others remained on alert against possible dangers. The Legatus began to walk between the dead, kneeling to examine their faces. He discovered the bodies of the scouts and other soldiers mingled with those of some barbarians. The fallen legionaries had been deprived of their swords but their armors were still on place. The painful examination lasted only few minutes and in the end Quintus sighed in relief. Maximus was not among the dead.....but where was he? Did the authors of the ambush capture him? How badly was he wounded? The legatus turned to his men: they were looking to him expectantly. The knew that the men would gladly search all night for their general, but a strong wind was beginning to blow and it was risky to roam the woods with the torches. Quintus turned to a centurion and said, pointing to the corpse of one of the scouts. "Take off their cloaks and wrap them over their faces: this will protect them from the animals till tomorrow when we will came back to bury them."

"Yes, sir."

When the painful task was completed, Quintus mounted Argento and gestured to his men to follow him away from the clearing and back to the camp. The night was so dark and the wind so strong that none of the Romans saw the ruined bushes near the road side nor noticed the little column of smoke raising from the bottom of the hill.

  
  


*

  
  


Hildegarde was awakened by a low moan. Coming suddenly to her senses, she fought a moment of terror as, disoriented, she could not locate the source of the sound. Finally, in the dim light of the dwindling flames she made out the face of her soldier and she sprang quickly to her feet.

He was awake!

"_hwhaarramei_?" He asked in Latin. To her untrained ears, the rounded, lyrical words sounded like a song.

"You are safe." She answered in her native tongue.

"Safe?" He echoed. He frowned, seeming to try the feel of the word on his tongue. "Safe?" 

She blinked in surprise. He knew what she was saying!

"You are in a hunting lodge....do you remember? There was a battle."

"A battle..." He repeated, shaking his head. "Did I fight?"

She blinked. Didn't he remember? "Yes. You we struck with an arrow." 

She gestured toward his thigh, the bright red of the cauterized wound in vivid contrast with his golden skin. 

"Hurts."

"I know." She scrambled for her herb basket. "Here." She tendered a piece of bark. "Chew this."

The man did as he was told, grimacing at first at the bitter taste and then sighing in relief as the pain in his thigh eased. 

"You are?"

"Hildegarde." She said, a little frightened that she had dared to tell him her real name.

"My wife?"

The girl blinked, shivering slightly at the prospect, but answering too quicky "No!"

"A lover?" The voice was innocent, but the question filled her with a shimmer of heat. Her lover! A Roman....

"No. " She answered again. "A friend." Hildegarde's hands nervously sorted through the herbs in her basket. Were the questions sincere? Did he really not remember?

  
  


*

  
  


Quintus was bone weary when he returned to the camp. He went at once to inform the emperor about the result of the searching party. Marcus Aurelius was not pleased by Maximus' disappearance but he was hopeful his general was still alive. He dismissed Quintus with a nod of his head and the legatus retired gratefully. It was late and he was anxious for his bed, but there was still one task that he had to attend to before going to sleep: Caesar expected him to evacuate Antonia, and he needed to inform the girl of the arrangements that had been made for her.

"Which room is Antonia in?" He asked his servant, ignoring the arched look that the inquiry received. Damn protocol. He was tired. He wasn't going to send a servant to fetch her just because it was unseemly for an unmarried man to enter a woman's bedchamber. There was no one to see him anyhow.

The slave gestured down the hallway, and Quintus walked quickly in the indicated direction.

"Sir!" Antonia's handmaid jumped to her feet as the soldier neared the door. "You can't go in there!"

"I can and I will." He blustered, and then paused with one foot in the doorway. What if Antonia had just gotten out of the bath? What if she were changing? 

He shook his head as if to clear way the thought.

"Antonia." He called loudly. He would give her warning, at least. "I'm coming in." 

Antonia barely looked up as he entered. She was sitting to a little table while one of her servants combing her glorious hair, which lay loose around her shoulders. For just a moment Quintus simply stared, enchanted by the play of shadows and lights that the lamp cast on her bronze mane.

"May I help you, Legatus?" Antonia's stern tone broke the train of thought.

Quintus shook his head and cleared his voice, "My Lady."

"You just shouted 'Antonia' loudly enough to wake the dead, and barged into my room without permission, and now you are calling me 'My Lady'? You should decide, Clarus, whether you want to be a gentleman or a rough soldier." Antonia did not look at him, keeping her eyes fixed on the piece of polished silver she was using as mirror.

Quintus gritted his teeth at the caustic comment, his expression darkening, "_My Lady_, I wanted to inform you tomorrow at dawn you will leave this camp for Vindobona's under the escort of legatus Flavius. I advise you to be up and ready for that time -- so maybe it would better if you went to bed soon, instead of wasting time in front of the mirror."

Antonia turned and glared at him, "I will be ready earlier than your men. And now, _Good Night_, Legatus."

Quintus jerked his head in an irritated approximation of a bow, "Good night, Antonia," And then he walked away.

  
  


10

  
  


That night it began to rain. In the beginning it was only few drops but soon it transformed in a waterfall so strong that it damaged the roofs of the stables and the kitchen tent. It even began to seep inside the tents. The soldiers woke up in the middle of the night to transfer the food supplies in a dry place. 

When finally the rain stopped in the morning, the ground was covered with pools and ankle-deep mud.

Quintus swore as he took note of the situation. Any traces of the General's whereabouts were being erased. Furthermore, it was clear that Antonia's departure would be postponed because of the condition of the roads. The way for Vindobona was mostly downhill and with the thick mud it was risky to travel by wagon. The wheels did not have enough grip on the ground, and might stick in the sticky earth. With a sigh, Quintus walked to the emperor's tent to brief him on the situation. While he approached his destination a strange thought crossed his mind....he was actually relieved Antonia was not going away, at least not now. The legatus frowned, where had that thought come from?

  
  


*

  
  


Hildegarde stuck her head out of the hut and looked at the sky with relief: after the terrible rain of the night before she was happy to see the sun. 

She turned back inside where her patient was still asleep and knelt near him. Touching his brow, she was pleased to discover that the fever was almost gone.

Without even noticing it her hand began to caress the sleeping face, her fingers combing the short beard until a strong hand covered her own and stilled her moves. Hildegarde blushed crimson, ashamed to have been discovered but when she looked at his eyes she saw they were still closed.

The Roman had reacted to her gesture in his sleep and the girl's breath caught in her throat with a feeling she was not able to define when he rubbed his cheek against their joined hands.

"Hildegarde! Are you here my daughter?"

Her mother's voice, coming from outdoor snapped the young woman out her dreamy state and freeing her hand, she stood up and ran outside.

"Hildegarde!" exclaimed Rodelind, her mother, "Thank Odin you are all right! I was so worried."

"Mother, as you can see I am fine. I found a shelter for the night. I am sorry if I worried you…." The two women embraced and then stepped apart. Hildegarde saw her mother's smile disappear as her eyes stared at something and following her gaze she saw she was staring at her blood-covered dress.

"What happened? Are you hurt?"

"No mother, the blood is not mine..."

"No?" The older woman quirked an eyebrow inviting her to go on.

"I- I found a man yesterday near the road....He was badly injured and fever was beginning to set in.I helped him."

Her mother smiled, "I always knew you are a good healer. Where is he?"

"He is in the hut." Hildegarde motioned with her head.

"Let me go to see him..." Her mother began to walk to the hut and the young woman followed her, "Mother you must know a thing, he is a ..."

"A wolfman!" her mother exclaimed with horror when she saw the wine-red tunic of the sleeping man.

Hildegarde recoiled from the horrified look that crossed her mother's face.

She saw in the older woman's eyes, all of the pain of her husband's betrayal, and the fear of living all her life struggling against the invaders. For a moment, the young German was ashamed.

Her mother was right. She should not have helped the Roman. They were

conquering and cruel. Unfeeling.... 

...but not this one.

In spite of herself, Hildegarde's feelings of distaste refused to linger.

She had watched her soldier for too many hours to doubt his true nature.Yes, some legionnaries were cruel and savage, but this man was very gentle and kind. He would not harm her.

At last, the older woman found her voice. Its tones were softer than expected. "What happened?"

"He fell of his horse."

"He is so clumsy?"

"No...he....there was an arrow wound. I think it was a raid."

Rodelind considered that. "A raid? Not one of ours, at least- I saw the warriors at council only last night." she frowned deeply. "But that is bad news as well. Strangers in our lands? What could they want?"

"Probably another alliance." Hildegarde answered, eliciting a nod of agreement.

"Perhaps..."

"Mother, he would have died."

Rodelind swallowed. Her daughter could see that her initial conviction- to order her daughter to leave the man to die- was wavering. She had been a healer for too long to deny aid to someone who needed it- even an enemy. "Is there fever?" She said after a long pause.

"There was. I gave him birch…"

A nod. "You've done well. The fever is almost gone." She ran her experienced eyes along the body, pausing when she came to the arrow wound and massaging it gently with her fingertips. The Roman moaned in pain at the touch, his eyelids fluttering as if to open.

Rodelind's hand drew quickly away. "Infection."

"I know. I tried to cut it out, but...."

"A poultice?"

"Mistletoe and fennel...I didn't have the rest."

Another sigh. "What will we do when he awakens?"

"Take him back to the village?"

"The village! You aren't serious."

"He doesn't remember!" Hildegarde began speaking quickly, desperate to explain all the details of her plan before her mother had a moment to protest. "He hit his head, and his memory seems to be gone. I spoke to him in Quadi and he answered....he thinks that he is one of us!"

"One of us?" The voice was clearly skeptical. 

"Yes..." Hildegarde knew that she was jumping to conclusions, but she was frantic at the thought of leaving the man alone to fend for himself in the dark woods. If he didn't know who he was, he would not remember his way home. Even if he did, the woods were dark and unfamiliar to a stranger.

"Mother, he might die."

The older woman's features clearly conveyed her displeasure, yet Hildegarde's heart leapt with the certainty that she was going to agree.

"You can get some of father's clothes..." She suggested, urging her mother to the door. "When he awakens we will see if he can walk."

"The rest of them will come after him." Rodelind chewed her lip nervously.

"And what will we tell the others?"

"That he is a hunter I ran across collecting herbs in the woods....assuming that they even bother to ask." For once, it was a blessing that they were ostracized from the town. It could be weeks before the other villagers noticed their charge.

Her mother nodded unhappily. "Very well. He may stay until he is healed....but if his memory returns…"

Hildegarde nodded before her mother spoke. "I know. He would be dangerous." She said without conviction. Inwardly her heart was swelling with joy. The soldier- HER soldier was coming to live in her hut.

  
  


11

  
  


Marcus Aurelius was not pleased by the latest turn of the events. Not only was his general missing but now the plan to take his niece to a safer camp was postponed. The old emperor sighed as Quintus made his report but there was nothing more that he could do. Even Caesar, had no control over the weather or nature. He could only hope that the sky would remain clear the long enough for the sun to dry the roads.

On the other side of the Praetorium, Antonia smiled with relief, being perhaps the only person pleased by the rain that would allow her to spend a few more days in the outpost among the hills. She was happy there. The place reminded her so much of the camp where she had grown up. Of course, like the others, she was concerned that the heavy rain might have erased clues that would lead to Maximus. The entire camp was worried about the general's fate, and the emperor's niece was no exception. Still, there was nothing for her to do. She could only pray for him.

  
  


*

  
  


That afternoon the rain began to fall again, forcing Antonia to stay in the Imperial quarters. The young woman was beginning to tire of being cloistered indoors; she had spent three weeks closed in the wagon, doing nothing other than read and talk with her uncle. Now she longed to walk, to move and to enjoy some time outdoors. The prospect of spending long golden afternoons in the forest had helped her bear the long boring trip from Rome, but now the thoughts only taunted her as the dismal weather robbed her of escape. 

Finally reaching the end of her patience, Antonia exited the Praetorium, covering her silken dress with a heavy, waterproof _sagum_ borrowed from a legionnaire. She walked single-mindedly toward the stables, heedless of how the deep mud caked on the hem of her tunica.

Dresses could be cleaned.

Antonia lowered the cloak to her shoulders as she entered the barn, smiling in delight at the many fine animals stabled there. She moved from stall to stall, petting the horses that she found there, lingering by Argento, the powerful stallion that belonged to the General, and to the little bay foal nearby.

A wax tabled hung near the stall door noted the foal's name.

"So you are Scarto, eh little one?" Antonia said, reaching into her pocket for a piece of apple she had saved from her lunch. "You are beautiful."

She stroked the little animal's muzzle for a lot of time, and her presence began to attract the soldiers' attention. The woman was so beautiful- like a pearl among the stones- that most of them simply stared in awe. After a while one of the soldier was bold enough to approach.

  
  


*

  
  


"Do you like horses, My Lady?" he asked.

"Very much so, Soldier, I have loved them since I was very little and my father took me to inspect the camp sitting on the saddle with him."

"Your father, My Lady?"

"General Claudius."

"You are the daughter of the famous general Claudius?"

"Yes." Antonia smiled at the young soldier's awestruck tone.

The man noted her bemusement and looked at his feet, "I have heard a lot of things about him, from General Maximus and other people..."

"Really, soldier? Come on, tell me what you heard...."

Soon Antonia and the legionary lost themselves in conversation and the girl forgot all about the rain and her imminent travel for Vindobona...lingering in the stables and listening to the sometimes colorful expression of her companion, brought her back to the times when she was a child and her father's camp mascot. It was a wonderful feeling and she wanted to revel in it as longer as possible.

  
  


*

  
  


"Hello?...Hildegarde?" 

The girl let out a breath that she did not know she had been holding as the soldier awakened once more and stared around the room. He had called her by his name. He was still speaking Quadi. His memories of his other life had not returned.

Her plan was moving forward.

"Match..." She smiled shyly at the name she had invented. It meant "mighty"- a name her people sometimes used to refer to the Roman conquers. It suited him well..."You are awake."

"Yes."

Her smile broadened. "Are you hungry?" Hildegarde's mother had returned to the village to prepare for the stranger's arrival, but before leaving, she had supplied her daughter with a meager ration of food. The girl offered the crust of bread and strips of dried venison to the Roman, and he tasted them tentatively.

"Good." He murmured, swallowing the rest of the meat-strip with gusto. "Water?"

She brought him a cup. 

"How are you feeling? Can you walk?"

The man tested his leg. "I think so. Where are we going?"

"Home."

The man blinked. 

"To my home." Hildegarde explained quickly. "It will be easier to tend to you there. You were wounded in a battle..."

"What sort of battle?"

She swallowed. Her mother had warned her not to bring up too many memories from his past. To do so would tempt his recollections would return. Between them, the women had concocted a story that the stranger was a hunter in the woods who had journeyed west from one of the neighboring tribes. He had been caught by Roman scouts and left for dead....Hildegarde thought of the armor and helmet that she had hidden under the bed and hoped that he didn't ask too many questions.

The Roman merely nodded at her explanation. He continued eating his food and, when it was gone, rose unsteadily to his feet.

"Hurt..."

Hildegarde nodded, almost feeling his pain herself. "It will be better soon. My mother has a potion-"

"Your mother?"

"She is the village healer. She will make you well...." Hildegarde rushed forward as the man began to stumble. "Rest for now. We must wait until mother returns with clothes before we leave."

The stranger nodded, glancing downwards at his stained tunica. "Roman?" He said strangely.

Hildegarde nodded. "Yes...you...your clothes were...." the girl struggled for a lie. "Ripped. I took this from...a soldier."

The man frowned, rubbing his hand along the smooth, blood-stained fabric.

"It fits."

"Yes."

She bit her lip, wondering for a moment if her fabric of lies was about to come unwound. There was a moment of uneasy silence, and then a smile brought the stranger's ruggedly handsome features to life.

"Thank you." He whispered.

Hildegarde only smiled.

  
  


12

  
  


Antonia and the soldier -- whose name she discovered was Fabritius - talked for almost a hour, and as engaged in the conversation as she was Antonia barely noticed that it had stopped raining until a pale sunbeam filtered downward through the sky. The young woman inhaled deeply relishing the clear damp smell of earth and grass, so happy to be in the camp, and wishing that she could remain there forever. She wanted to mount one of the horses and go for a brief ride....But how? There was no way that her uncle would let her go outside and it was impossible to pass in front of the sentries without being noticed. As she reflected on these things, Antonia saw a group of soldiers returning from another, useless round of searching for Maximus. Antonia's gaze was attracted by a flash of metal in the light, caused as a sunray danced across the helmets of a rider. She held her breath as an idea crossed her mind. She noticed for the first time how many helmeted soldiers came and went through the gates without the sentries stopping them. Was it possible that the same thing would work for her? 

Smiling coquettishly at Fabritius, Antonia said, "I would like to take a walk now that is no longer raining....Could you show me the camp? I would like to see the kitchen, the place were you keep the spare armor.....everything."

The young soldier blushed under her flirtatious gaze and nodded, "Of course, My Lady, I will be honored to show you around."

"Good." With a bold move Antonia took the soldier's arm and, side by side the pair began to cross the camp. Their actions were followed by a dozen pairs of eyes- Fabritius' friend's envious ones and by Legatus Clarus' stare. He had noticed Antonia speaking with the soldier before, and he did not know whether to be relieved she had found something to do -- he was half afraid she might create problems if she were bored -- or to be jealous of all the kindness she demonstrated to the other man while she seemed to be always so cross with him.

The legatus shook his head and walked to the briefing tent: another searching party had just returned without any sign of Maximus and he need to study the maps and decide where to send the next one.

  
  


*

The members of the village seemed to line the streets as Hildegarde and her soldier struggled home, Match limping on his one good leg, and Hildegarde struggling under the weight of attempting to support him. News of her arrival seemed to have proceeded her, and she was grateful for the clothes- retrieved by her mother from a half-forgotten stash of her father's old belongings- that hid his true origins. It was obvious that her initial plan, to sneak the Roman into the town, would have been a miserable failure. All along the way she could hear people whispering around her. Their voices spoke not their usual snide comments, but rather, wonderment as to where Hildegarde could have found such a handsome stranger.

"Just a little bit further." The girl encouraged Match when he stumbled on a stone in the middle of the path. "We are just on the edge of that clearing."

"Not near the other houses?" He frowned. "Isn't that dangerous?"

"We are used to the danger." Hildegarde was not yet ready to tell him of her ostracization. For some deep reason that she refused to admit even to herself, she wanted him to think well of her. She would try to hide her shame a little bit longer.

Hildegarde's mother met them at the front door, sliding her body under the Roman's other arm and relieving her daughter of some of the weight.

"I was worried about you." The older woman whispered. "People were...talking..."

Her daughter nodded. "We had trouble making it up the hill. I am sorry if you worried."

The other woman merely shrugged. Together, they helped the man into a chair, and retired again to the kitchen.

"Would you like some food?" Hildegarde asked, her own stomach rumbling at the smell of her mother's delicious soup. 

The stranger nodded. "Yes...and then...perhaps there is somewhere that I could wash?"

Another nod. "We have a basin. I will heat some water for you after dinner."

The three settled down to their supper quietly. It was clear from the soft look in his eyes that Match wanted to talk, but he had forgotten his past, and had very little to say. He encouraged the women to speak, but this was not as easy as would be expected. Hildegarde and her mother had long ago worn out amusing topics of conversation. Rodelind knew, or suspected, almost everything about her daughter's life, and she didn't care to speak of the past, since her memories were so painful. Hildegarde, in turn, had no one to speak to but her mother. She was out of practice, and the words would not come, though her heart had a thousand things that she longed to say to the foreigner.

At last the meal was concluded, and the girl hung a kettle over the fire to warm. She fetched a bar of pine-scented soap from a box, and set it next to a soft woolen cloth. "Here." She said, presenting the Roman with items and a bowl of steaming water.

He took them, and then looked around the one-room hut. Hildegarde did not know what he was looking for at first, but when he grinned with embarrassment, her cheeks instantly flushed, and she lunged toward one of the corners. 

"Here." She said, quickly. "We can drape a blanket over the loom. It will give you some privacy. Mother and I will go outside. You may call us if you need anything."

The stranger nodded, still smiling.

Hildegarde gathered her shawl and exited the little dwelling. She circled the house to the side yard where her mother was stringing the herbs that she had found the day before onto racks for drying. Without speaking, she picked up a bunch of mint sprigs and began twisting them into a little bundle, trying not to think about what was going on inside.

The girl had tried to convince herself that her interest in the Roman was merely idle interest in the unknown, but as she sat on the dirt, only a few feet from where he was washing, she admitted to herself for the first time that those feelings were not entirely the truth. More than mere curiosity had called her to the Roman camp. She was intrigued by his customs, but she was more captivated by his gentle manner and easy charisma. He was tall, strong, powerful...

She wanted him in the way that a woman wanted a man. 

"Not like that!" 

Her mother's voice brought Hildegarde's musings to an abrupt end. She had wound the cord around the mint so tightly that the stems had broken. The older woman sighed in exasperation, and her daughter worked quickly to repair the damage. Had Rodelind suspected where her child's thoughts had wandered?

  
  
  
  


13

  
  


The following day, Antonia rose at dawn. Being careful to avoid making any noise, she braided her hair tightly, before putting on the most modest and un-feminine tunica of her wardrobe, a maroon shift she had taken with her in case the weather was especially cold. After lacing her shoes, she tiptoed silently across the tent without waking up her maids and slipped outside. As she had predicted, she was just in time for the change of the guards, when the Praetorians who had stood for the night shift were relieved by their rested companions. 

Antonia listened for the four men to exchange greetings, and then, keeping herself low and hidden behind the tents of the Praetorium she was able to escape without being seen.

Ever vigilant, the girl crossed the camp, until she arrived at the big tent were the armor and the uniforms were kept. She donned military dress quickly, drawing a helment over her broze curls, and a pair of heavy boots over her delicate feet. She picked up a sword and scabbard, and then, dressed as a perfect soldier, her long hair tucked beneath the helmet and her cuirass -- she marched out of the tent, trying to imitate the long strided walk of the legionaries surrounding her. Antonia strode with purpose to the stable, transmitting the idea that she had a task to do. She knew it was easier to escape notice if you gave the impression of business.

When she arrived at the horses, she retrieved a bridle and a saddle from the tack room and saddled the chestnut mare she knew be Fabritius' mount. The animal was easily handled and in few minutes, Antonia was sitting on its back, headed for the gates.

  
  


*

  
  


The sentries let the woman pass without any problems and as soon as she was out of their sight, Antonia pressed her heels in the mare's flank and coaxed her into an easy canter. The feel of the wind caressing her face, taken with to the luxuriant green scenery surrounding her and the sensation of powerful muscles moving under her seat, made Antonia feel free for the first time in years ....perhaps since her father's death. Back in Rome, her husband had never permitted her to ride, even when they spent their summers in his villa in Tusculum. He said a lady did not ride. Antonia had resented him for his pompous patronizing....she was not a simpleton, she was General Claudius' daughter and the emperor's niece, she certainly knew what was right or appropriate for a lady to do-- but her husband had never appreciated her abilities. She felt guilty to admit it, but she was happy to free of him......even if she suspected that her uncle was already planning a new marriage for her.

Though the prospect of another husband was far from amusing, Antonia could not help but smile. Marcus Aurelius was a kind, gentle and clever man, but he was no good at playing matchmaker. The young woman remembered his less than subtle attempt to throw her into Maximus' arms and almost burst into giggles when she remembered the general's comically pained expression when he had realized what his Caesar was trying to do. 

Lost in her memories Antonia did not realize how far she had wandered from the camp until the rain began to fall again. A very un-ladylike word escaped the lips as she stopped the mare and looked around, uncertain as to how she should proceed. The drizzle was growing steadily harder, and she did not know if it would be best to find a shelter and wait for the shower end or to return to the camp. In the end she opted for the first alternative: she knew her absence was not going to remain undiscovered for long and she guessed that an occasion for her to slip away again was going to be non-existent. She was going to pay for her escapade....her uncle's tirades were rare but terrible. Antonia's absense would surely stoke his tember. In light of these facts, the woman felt it was better to use her freedom to the fullest for as long as she could. 

Turning the mare toward the thick of the forest, Antonia began to search for a place to wait for the end of the storm.

  
  
  
  


14

  
  


Hildegarde was barely able to sleep at all that night. She was too conscious of Match's proximity, and too confused by the strange feelings that she had finally acknowledged. Was she really falling in love? As lonely as she was, she hoped that the answer was "no". She knew, deep within her heart that her soldier would someday realize where he belonged. Even if it were many years, she would live in constant fear of being discovered. Would he forgive her for her lies? Surely he could appreciate that she had brought him here to save his life. If she had left him in the woods, he would have died....

  
  


The same thoughts were still plaguing the girl as her eyes fluttered

reluctantly open in the first rays of dawn. She could hear movement beside her, and soft, muted voices. She came awake quickly, looking toward the kitchen where Match and her mother were engaged in quiet conversation.

"Hildegarde." Her mother called, noticing that the young woman was finally awake. "Eat your breakfast. I have told Match that you will show him around the town this morning before you begin your chores."

The girl nodded quickly. Even though she feared what the villagers might say about her in the stranger's presence, she was anxious to show him her town. She knew that the Roman did not remember his origins, but she was still excited at the prospect of demonstrating her own way of life, since she had observed his from afar for so long.

The village was small, and so the tour did not take long. Still she took pride in showing him the well where the members of the tribe drew water when they chose not to walk to the spring, the wide meadow where the animals were raised, and finally, the grove of slender oak trees where religious ceremonies were held. The stranger asked many questions, attempting to piece together his own memories of similar places in his home. Of course, the attempt was useless, Hildegarde smiled sympathetically, appreciating the futility of his task and regretting the frustration he was feeling. The Roman did not ask questions about her. She was disappointed, but also relieved. No sense dredging up bad memories- though HE was hardly in a position to hate her for being the daughter of a traitor, whether he understood it or not! They talked about neutral topics, returning to the hut at least half an hour later than they had planned.

Rodelind was cross, and Hildegarde worked to complete her chores in record time. She understood that she was already courting her mother's displeasure. She would not risk having the stranger sent away, and so she moved quickly, grateful for the assistance of an extra set of hands..

  
  


*

  
  


Quintus had just completed the afternoon briefing with his officers when a Pretorian stepped in the tent.

"Legatus Clarus, Caesar wishes to speak with you."

Quintus nodded and after straightening his uniform followed the black clad soldier to the imperial quarters, mentally reciting what he would say about the fruitless search for his friend. As badly as he wanted to deny it, the possibility that Maximus was lost forever was becoming higher and higher with each search party that returned empty handed.

  
  


*

  
  


The chief-Legatus entered the tent and bowed deeply, "Caesar."

"Legatus. Any news about Maximus?" Marcus Aurelius asked, even though he already knew the answer.

"No, your majesty, nothing."

"I suppose you are enlarging the radius of the search...."

"Yes, Caesar but the rain has washed away any possible trace. We have no clue regarding the direction that the enemy took nor from where they arrived. We wanted to use the dogs, but the rain ruined that possibility too."

"Yes," the old monarch let out a sigh. "At least I hope you will soon be able to transfer Antonia to Vindobona. I don't like to have her here with the tribes so agitated and dangerous."

Quintus nodded his head. "This morning it rained for only a few minutes and now a strong wind is blowing from the north. I think it should dry the mud in few hours and barring new rains tomorrow the roads should be good enought to travel."

"I am glad to hear it. Please, go to my niece's quarters and inform her of the news." The emperor saw that the officer had understood his orders, and then he moved toward a couch. " I am feeling a bit tired today -- I am no longer young and all this rain is no good for my old bones -- and I wish to rest, so I will be more 'alive' for dinner." Marcus Aurelius smiled gently and Quintus replied with a bow of his head before walking away.

  
  
  
  


15

  
  


Since Quintus was already in the Praetorium the trip to Antonia's rooms was brief. Remembering what had happened two days before he stopped outside of opening and calling to one of her servant said in a voice loud enough for Antonia to hear "Would you please alert your mistress Legatus Quintus Clarus is here, hoping that she will be kind enough to concede him the honor of a visit."

The maid's eyes widened at his overly flowery speech and then said, "I am sorry, Sir, but my lady is not here."

"Not here? Well, were is she?" Quintus saw the girl exchange a look with

another, older woman and then stare at her feet. "We don't know, Sir, my lady was already gone this morning when we got up."

"What?! Why don't you say anything?" the legatus barked and the young maid began to tremble.

"We did not see any reason to do so," said the older lady-in-waiting, putting an arm around the girl's shoulder. "The _Domina_ likes to spend time alone. Even in Rome she often spends hours outside the villa. They saw nothing unusual in her behavior."

Quintus grumbled but then said more gently, "All right, I did not mean to

frighten you. Carry on with your duties, I will find your mistress by myself."

  
  


*

  
  


Quintus walked around the camp, asking his officers if sanyone had seen Antonia that day but he received only negative responses. In the end he went to the stables and asked to see Fabritius. The soldier arrived quickly and snapped at-attention in front of him.

"Relax, legionary, I just wanted to know if you saw the lady Antonia today."

"Ehm...I...No, Sir, I did not see her." Fabritius seemed very nervous and Quintus sensed that something was not right.

"Do you have something to say to me?"

The younger man bit his lower lip and then admitted pitifully, "My horse is missing, Sir."

"What do you mean 'your horse is missing? Are you implying that someone took it?"

"Yes, Sir. And...and..I am afraid it might have been the lady Antonia."

Quintus frowned, "Why?"

"Well yesterday she told me how much she loved to ride and how she to go into the woods. She asked a lot of questions about my horse... I thought she was just being polite and friendly, and…." The boy blushed and let his voice trail off before he finished seriously. "But now I am afraid she decided to do something about it."

Quintus cursed under his breath, as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. Lost in thought he gestured to Fabritius to return to work, then he wandered through the camp until he found a quiet spot in the shelter of a gnarled oak.

He was now certain that Antonia had taken the horse and left the camp for a ride. But how had she slipped through the gates without being noticed? The sentries would have surely stopped her… The legatus rubbed his hand over his eyes and groaned. How could he inform Marcus Aurelius his niece was missing? First he had to tell the man that his general had been lost…and now his niece? He simply couldn't do it. He had to find her as soon as possible, before dinner so that Caesar would never knew about what happened. Quintus returned to the stable and quickly saddled his own horse. Then, with the animal in tow walked to the tent of legatus Valerius, the third officer in the camp chain of command, and briefly informed him of what was going on. Valerius, a big man with short curly hair, nodded with understanding and promised to take care of the camp and the emperor till Quintus' return. After that the chief legatus jumped in saddle and galloped out of the camp.

  
  
  
  


16

  
  


"That's enough-" It was nearly sunset before Rodelind's voice interrupted Hildegarde and Match's toil. The girl was hoeing some maize in the garden, while March chopped wood for a fire. "Hildegarde. Come inside. You must wash for dinner. You'll be late."

"Late?" The girl frowned in confusion.

"Yes Godeoc will be here soon."

Hildegarde felt as though her heart had stopped in her chest- _Godeoc, here_! She had promised him an answer tonight! 

  
  


*

  
  


Match let the heavy axe fall to the ground and turned to look at the pretty girl with whom he had spent the afternoon. Godeoc. The name meant nothing to him, but he could tell that the girl was agitated. He smiled at her, wishing that he could do more, and then returned to stacking the wood while she went into the house to wash.

He gathered the heavy logs easily in his arms and carried them to a pile behind the hut. His thigh still burned with pain, making the physical activity difficult, but he was persistent. It felt good to be repaying his hostesses for their hospitality.

Who were these women? He had puzzled over the question for days, certain that if he concentrated hard enough he would be able to pull the answer from his clouded mind, but it was no use. He simply could not place them. He would have to base his suppositions on the present- an equally difficult task.

From Rodelind's quiet nervousness he drew the suspicion that he, or his original tribe, posed a threat to the village. She was generous enough, and applied her medical skills diligently toward his recovery...but there was something missing in her eyes: _Trust_.... It was as though she expected him to turn into a monster at any moment.

It was much more pleasant to think of Rodelind's daughter. Hildegarde trusted him. He smiled as he thought of the girl, remembering how lovely she looked lying on her furs beside him in the tent. He had almost reached out and touched her, intending to draw her close, and then he remembered their conversation from the day before. She was not his wife. She was not his lover....

Had they been before? Was that the answer? It would certainly explain why the mother did not trust him, and would be true to the elusive feeling in his gut that he had seen her before. There was an image, and nothing more. He was near an animal of some sort, a small creature...standing in a glen...he had looked up and then- at the moment he remembered Hildegarde's face, the memory would slip away. He sighed in frustration .

"Match? Will you join me for dinner?" The warrior looked up, smiling. It seemed that Rodelind was forever calling him to a meal. He wondered if they would ever have a deeper conversation....perhaps he would learn why she was so sad, where her husband had gone, and why they lived apart from the village...

Carefully cleaning the axe on the edge of his tunic, he headed back indoors. He blinked in surprise when he saw Hildegarde. She was wearing a different dress than she had been earlier- and her mother was weaving flowers into her hair. The effect was charming...but there was something wrong. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, and her lower lip was trembling.

"Is something wrong?" He leaned toward her without thinking, reaching as though to caress her cheek.

"Your meal is on the table."

The sternness of Rodelind's voice made him startle, and he did as he was bidden, unable to tear his gaze away from the sniffling daughter.

"Wipe your eyes." Rodelind's voice was gentler as she spoke to her daughter. "You knew that this was going to happen. You hoped for it once. There are worse things."

The girl nodded glumly, dabbing her eyes on her mother's apron. "B-but..." The women began to whisper, and Match could no longer make out the words. Sighing, he turned his attention to his meal.

  
  


*

  
  


Back in the woods Antonia was growing frantic. Between her riding lost in

thought and the her search for a shelter, she had totally lost the road for the camp. She had already been wandering in the forest for hours, trying to

find the little path. She had even tried to free her mount, hoping the mare had a better sense of direction than she but that was not the case: once free, the beast was only interested in grazing. She was doing that even now, while Antonia tried to analyze her situation: she was lost in the middle of a forest full of barbarians, she had no food and her clothes were still damp from the morning rains and she had no doubt that she would freeze after sundown. Her only hope, she decided -- aside from the remote possibility that she might find the road again -- was a search party. Antonia cringed at the thought: her uncle would be furious, and justly so! She had been inconsiderate and impulsive, but she was willing to pay the price if only it meant that she would return quickly to the safe walls of the camp.


	3. Part 3

17

"He is here." 

Abruptly, Hildegarde's tears ceased. She dabbed them dry with the edge of her skirt, and steeled herself to step out into the night. She was too ashamed to look back at Match. She regretted the childish display of her emotions, but found that she cold not control them. The soldier, HER soldier, was with her a last and she was reminded, yet again that they could never be together.

Moisture was still drying on the girl's cheeks when she stepped outside. As her mother had stated Godeoc was waiting there. In spite of her sadness, she had to smile at his appearance. He seemed almost overly scrubbed his fair skin shining pink in the moonlight. He smiled at her as nervously as a young boy, though he already had sons nearly Hildegarde's age, and a daughter who had borne a child herself. 

"You look very pretty." He said softly, and then stared down at her feet. 

Hildegarde had heard stories of Godeoc's prowess as a warrior, but she found the tales hard to believe when he acted as he often did in her presence. Since the day that she had healed his youngest son of a knife wound sustained in battle, he had behaved as if he were in awe of her. He treated her very gently and politely. He would be the perfect husband if only there were a spark. 

There wasn't. Trying to feign excitement for the evening's adventure, Hildegarde tore her thoughts once more away from the Roman and concentrated on the path ahead. 

He was leading her to a rock by the river where they often sat to talk and gaze upon the stars. She assumed that Godeoc was trying to be romantic-more than one member of the tribe had remarked with astonishment at the fact that he would waste time on such niceties- and especially with a girl like Hildegarde but he was undeterred. As they headed silently toward their destination, the young German scanned her memory for something interesting to say that would not reveal the presence of Match. 

"I think I heard that your daughter is pregnant again." She said as they reached the rock. 

Godeoc smiles shyly. "Yes. She is young but very strong. The Gods will bless her with another son before the frost comes again next fall." 

Hildegarde nodded. "And I hear that you have purchased a new horse as well." 

"Yes....from another village. I needed a workhorse to extend my fields..." 

Silence once more. 

Hildegarde sighed, completely at a loss about what to speak of next. She swung her legs over the stone cliff and dangled them over the river while looking upwards toward the stars. How she wished that she were here with Match! Things would be so different. She would be lost in his arms by now, their bodies pressed close.... 

The effects of her daydream must have shown on her face, because when she opened her eyes, Godeoc was staring at her strangely. 

"Hildegarde?" He whispered. 

"Yes?" She tilted her head in a questioning manner as if to say "What is it?" However, her message was misinterpreted. before she knew what was happening, Godeoc's lips were upon hers, pressing gently against her mouth. 

Hildegarde was too surprised to react immediately, but as she came to her senses, she wrenched away. 

"Hildegarde!" Godeoc's voice was hurt and confused as she jumped to her feet, biting her lip to keep her tears at bay. "Hildegarde, I'm sorry..." he stammered. "I thought...since we....I" 

"I am sorry." She said sincerely. Now that she had time to think, she realized that the gesture had been meant tenderly and in the reasonable expectation that it would be welcome. "Godeoc, I promised you an answer to your proposal tonight." 

He looked at her hopefully, his soft brown eyes nervous and deep. 

She took a breath. "I'm sorry, but I must say 'no'" 

"But you....your mother." To his credit, Godeoc bit back the words that he was going to say. There was no point telling her that such an offer might not be made again- that there would be no one to feed her family when the snows were deep, and no children to care for her when she was old. Hildegarde noted his forbearance and realized, with a pang, that the irrationality of her choice must make the rejection all the harder to bear. 

"It isn't you..." She whispered, wanting desperately to ease his pain. He had been very kind to her, and deserved much better than what he had gotten. 

"there is simply no....passion between us." She blushed at her words, but forced herself to meet his eyes to see that he understood. 

"No passion for *you*" he corrected. 

Hildegade gasped. Until that moment, she had never suspected that his interest was anything more than a desire for mutual benefit. Was he in love with her? That revelation made her guilt seem deeper. "It isn't just that" she continued quickly. "You have a very honorable family. How would they feel if you....tainted yourself with an alliance to me?" 

"They accept my word." he said sternly. "I am the father in my house." 

She nodded, noting that she was getting no where with her arguments. "Thank you, Godeoc." she leaned forward to kiss him again. Rather than a romantic gesture, the caress was a chaste peck on the cheek. "I appreciate that you have been kind, and I thank you for allowing me to commit the folly of listening to my heart." 

"You are young." He said sadly. 

"Yes." She nodded, knowing that he was right. If she had lived to see as many summers as the warrior, she would understand that practicalities often outweighed the longing of a heart, but she would not relent. 

"I must go home. My mother will be waiting." 

"I will walk you." 

"No. That isn't necessary." 

Hildegarde offered the man a tired smile, and then slipped away, relieved that the interview was over. She would still see Godeoc from time to time- her village was very small, and everyone who needed a healer was bound to come to her hut- but she knew that they could be civil. She hoped that her mother would take the news as easily as the prospective groom. 

  
  


*

  
  


"Well?" 

Hildegarde had hoped, irrationally, that her mother would be asleep, but her luck did not appear. The woman was waiting on the stoop of the house. 

"Where is Match?" Hildegarde asked, ignoring her mother's question. 

"Inside, sleeping....." she growled in frustration. "Where is Godeoc, what did you say?" 

Hildegarde sighed and looked away. "I said..." she took a deep breath. "I said 'no'." 

"No?" Rodelind spoke the word in disbelief, and then fell silent as though she were in shock. Hildegarde watched anger build in her mother's face like clouds gathering for a storm. 

"NO? Hildegade, HOW COULD YOU?" Angry tears began almost immediately at the corner's of Rodelind's eyes, and the disappointment in her expression the impotent horror that her daughter would throw so much away was like a slap in the face to the girl. 

"Mother, please understand...." Hildegarde began, feeling like crying herself. "I do not love him..." 

"Love." Rodelind spat the word as though it were a curse. "Surely you have learned from me where love will take you. I married for love, and where did it get me?" She gestured wildly toward the hut, her motions accenting the distance between the little shelter and the cozy bundle of huts in the village proper. "Love got me a husband who is somewhere South, sleeping in a soft bed with a foreign mistress. Does he even think of me, Hildegarde? Does he think of you? Is love worth such a risk?" 

Hildegarde stared mutely at her feet. She had never heard her mother speak of her father in this way. She had often wondered what had become of the man, but she had never considered, until this moment, that her mother would wonder as well. They had hated her father for so long that she had forgotten that things had been different once- That her parents had been in love, and that her mother had burned for the man as hotly as Hildegarde ached for Match even now. 

"I am sorry." the girl whispered. 

"Sorry? sorry doesn't feed us? Sorry doesn't bring us back to the tribe." 

She took a breath, and then began the argument that Godeoc had been too kind to make. "Do you honestly believe that you will have another offer? You are waiting for love, but do you have real hopes that it will ever arrive?" 

"Yes!" Hildegarde's voice reverberated with conviction. "I have found it already." 

"Already?" 

Hildegarde clinched her teeth. She had said too much, but it was too late to stop now. 

"I love Match." 

"The Roman?" Rodelind recoiled in horror. "Hildegarde! He's barely even human." 

"That isn't true." anger was replacing the fear in the younger woman's voice. "He is everything that I have wanted...it is fate that we are together." 

"He's a monster.." 

"No....true, some of his kind are....cruel, but he is kind. Oh, mother, if you had seen him as I have..." 

"Seen him?" 

"Yes, from the forest. He is so gentle and kind....." 

"From the forest...Hildegarde, you've WATCHED him?" The disgust in Rodelind's voice was thinly veiled. She did not understand her daughter's behavior. 

"Mother, I love him." 

"Love." the older woman bit her lip. "You don't even know what it means." 

"Healer?" Both women turned to see a frightened girl at the edge of the yard. She was staring at them wild-eyed, as if afraid to come forward. 

"Healer?" 

"Coming." Rodelind gave her daughter a look that said "We shall finish this later" and then went to answer the summons. The girl had come from the chieftains house in the center of the village. His wife was in labor but her progress had stalled. Stepping into the house for her medicine chest, Rodelind quickly sprinted away. 

  
  


*

  
  


"I love him..." Match blinked in the darkness, barely able to believe his ears. For a long time, the angry voices of the two women had been drifting into the little shelter, keeping him from sleep. He realized after a moment that the women were speaking of him, and strained his ears to hear them better. 

_"I love him." _Hildegarde had said. His heart was beating with excitement at the very thought. He had suspected, from his first memory that they were somehow bound together, at last, he knew why. 

Match heard footsteps entering the hut and very still in the darkness until he discovered who it was. There was the sound of shuffling feet, and then of a shawl being hung on one of the pegs by the door. 

"Hildegarde?" He called softly. 

There was a moment os surprised silence. "Yes?" 

Match sat up, squinting through the darkness to make out her face. 

"Is your mother...? " 

"She isn't here. The chieftain's wife is having a baby." 

"Oh." 

Match pushed his coverings away. His torso was bare, the smooth, muscular planes of his chest shining in the moonlight. 

"Are you alright?" 

"Yes." 

"You were crying earlier." 

"I am better now." 

"Did Godeoc go away?" Hildegarde's mother had explained the situation earlier. He knew that the girl was expected to marry the older man who had called after dinner. He suspected, from what he had overheard, that the meeting had not gone to plan. 

"He is gone." 

"Are you unhappy?" 

"No." 

Match moved toward Hildegarde in the darkness. She watched him very carefully. 

"Why did you tell him no?" 

"I don't love him." 

"Is marriage about love?" 

"I wish that it would be." She twisted her hands at her sides, dreading the question that she somehow knew would come next. 

"Do you love someone else?" 

She wanted to lie, but it was impossible. The Roman was looking at her with such tenderness....why should she bother to deny the truth. Her mother was right. He would be gone soon, only a memory, why leave open the possibility that she could torture herself with memories of what might have been? "Yes." 

She answered boldly. "I'm in love with you."

  
  
  
  


18

After a hour spent exploring the wood along the road, Quintus was becoming very nervous: the sundown had already begun and there was no trace of Antonia. Soon it would be so dark that his searching would become useless. But how could return to the camp without finding the woman? He had no doubt Caesar would be furious with the men who had let her go out without noticing her, but he hoped to lessen the monarch's ire by showing him his niece was

returned in good health. Quintus also hoped Marcus Aurelius would bestow a nice punishment on the inconsiderate woman. The legatus himself had prepared a harsh indictment to release the moment that he saw her-.

But first he had to find Antonia.

He was about to abandon hope when his horses whinnied loudly.

"Shhh, be quiet," Quintus hissed. His stallion was still young and untrained to battle. He had not learned to stay silent, so as to avoid revealing hisposition to the enemy. Before the soldier could do anything the horse whinnied again but this time another whinny echoed from the thick of the forest and Quintus eyes darted in its direction. It was clear another horse was close by…but who did it belong to? Antonia or a barbarian?

The legatus decided to take a chance and led his horse through the trees,

shouting, "Antonia, is that you? Antonia!!!!"

  
  


*

  
  


Antonia heard someone calling for her and with a sigh of relief shouted back, "I am here! I am here!"

She heard the voice calling her name again and she began to walk in its direction, hoping to meet her rescuer.

When Quintus' and Antonia's paths finally met, the young woman's relieved expression disappeared. She recognized the Legatus at the first glance and his furious face chilled her.

Quintus let himself feel only the slightest bout of relief before attacking her with all his pent up anger and frustration. Without even greeting her, he shouted, "What do you have in your head?!? Sawdust? Don't you know how dangerous it is for a woman -- for _anyone_ to be out here alone? Why couldn't you stay in your tent and sew like a normal woman?!?" His face was red with anger and he was not trying to control it.

His last remark made Antonia forget the justice of his accusations and she shouted back, "I only wanted to take a ride! I was not doing anything wrong! --And I can mind myself!"

"Oh, of course! But ,if that is true,what were you doing so far from the road? Were you picking flowers? No my lady, you were totally, completely LOST!"

"That's not true!" Antonia cried, lying to defend her wounded pride, "I was not lost!"

"No?" Quintus quirked an eyebrow and added with a matter-of-fact tone, "So you will be able to find your way if I turn my horse and gallop away...." And he began to do just that, reining his stallion as if preparing to leave her.

"WAIT!" Antonia was not able to cover the fear in her voice. Her pride be

damned, she lowered her head and admitted, "You are right, Quintus, I am lost. Please don't leave me here alone."

Quintus grunted, and for just a second his stern expression softened. But when he spoke again his tone was still hard. "Now follow me closely, I must take you back to the camp. And let's hope the moon gives us enough light to see the road."

Antonia nodded and in few moments they began their trek back to the _castrum_.

  
  


*

  
  


Or at least they tried to do so.

Quintus' worst fears became reality when he realized that, in the dark, he could not find the road. In the dark forest there were too many trees that looked the same and too many little paths among which he could choose. It was like a giant labyrinth and unlike the Greek hero Theseus - the killer of the Minotaur - he had no Arianne's yarn to led him out of it.

Sighing with frustration and hating himself for having to do so, he stopped his horse and said, "I can't find the road in this darkness. We will have to wait for dawn." His tone was devoid of emotion, but Antonia knew how much it had cost to him to say those words. She was not the only one with a great pride.

Half-expecting a sarcastic remark, Quintus was surprised to hear her simply say, "All right, want you want to do?"

"I think we should find shelter for the night. Back on the trail we've been following, I noticed a rock formation...I seem to remember it from one of my earlier explorations looking for Maximus. If I am not mistaken, it has some kind of cavern where we could stay and light a fire. At the very least, the rock will provide some protection from the wind if we stay against it."

Antonia nodded, approving his plan-Not that she had any other choice....

Without saying more, they turned they horses and retraced their steps.

A few minutes later, the large shape of the rock became visible in the 

Pale, silvery moonlight. Quintus stopped his horse and dismounted, an action readily imitated by Antonia. They tied the animals to two strong trees -- Quintus checked the woman's work, while Antonia bit back an irritated remark -- and then he explored the rock with his hands. As the legatus had remembered, there was a little cavern, cramped but large enough for the both of to pie down protected from the elements.

"Go inside," he ordered the emperor's niece, before returning to the horses and rummaging in their saddle-bags. As he had hoped, he found some strips of dry meat and biscuits, plus the water mixed with wine he had in his goat-skin. It would be enough to feed them for that night. Putting the food back into the leather bag that he threw other his shoulder, he knelt to the ground and began to search for some dry leaves and wood to start a fire. It was not an easy task, considering the recent, heavy rains, but the rock had protected some portion of ground from the water and he was able to find what he needed. 

  
  
  
  


19

Match stared at her for an instant, and she barely breathed, feeling, irrationally, that her future in some way hung on his response. She had sent Godeoc away, had angered her mother, all for this instant: the moment of truth.

Match said nothing. He closed his eyes slightly and made a move to turn away. Hildegarde felt a deep pain begin within her chest. He was going to reject her!--

And then he spoke softly.

"I don't know if I love you or not....." He looked up at her, and the pain melted away in the warmth of his soft blue eyes. "I don't remember."

Hildegarde took in a shuddering breath. She wanted to tell him that he did love her- to make up a history that they had never shared, but she could not bring herself to enlarge the lie, and so she merely took his hand and squeezed it. "Perhaps we can make new memories..." She whispered."

Another pause.

There was an uncertainty in his eyes that made her tremble, and her nerves began to return again before he spoke. "I don't know if I am free to love you." He said plainly. "I have forgotten my past, and you did not know me."

Hildegarde's expression neither confirmed nor denied the supposition.

"I could be married. I could have children....sons...."

This fear was, at least, valid. The girl's face tightened as she considered, for the first time, that what he was saying could be very true. She had no way of knowing whether he had a family or not. The Romans were very far from their homes, and the lovely lady that she had seen descending from the carriage earlier in the week was the exception, rather than the rule. Most women in the camp were ragged camp followers, or barbarians like herself who had worked as servants or slaves. What if he were right?

But he couldn't be! Hildegarde's heart refused to accept the possibility. Wasn't it clear that they were meant to be together? That the Gods had drawn him into battle for the very purpose that he would hit his head on the stone and finally enter her world. Whatever he had in Rome could be replaced. She would keep him safe, make him happy.....

"I watched you." She admitted softly.

"Watched me?" He blinked.

"Before....before you fell. That is how I found you....you were not with a woman then." It was not a lie, but not the truth either. She looked to his face, seeking the effect of her words.

Match licked his lips, and then closed his eyes as the memory returned again. She had watched him. Yes...he remembered. The face, staring at him from the woods....the animal- was it the beast that he had been hunting?...and a loneliness....a longing....

With a start, his eyes flashed open. The pieces fell suddenly into place. It was Hildegarde that he had wanted. Hildegarde who had saved his life.....

He did not know the words to say. Strange syllables that he did not understand wanted to come to his lips...._amata..._ what did it mean? Since he could not conjure a verbal shape for his revelation, he gave it physical form instead. In one smooth movement he slid his arm around Hildegarde's back and crushed her to his chest.

She was so warm! So yielding!- and almost frighted as well. Her eyelids were half-closed, shadowing the dusky irises in a cloud of soft lashes. Her skin was flushed, her lips slightly parted...Without waiting for permission, he leaned forward and claimed her lips with his own. His movements were firm, and unrestrained. His tongue slid softly around the rim of her mouth, and then along her teeth, coaxing her to open to him.

Hildegarde felt as though she were being lifted into the sky. So many sensations that she had never felt converged on her at once that they seemed to overload her brain, leaving her with only a distant, heady feeling of floating detached from reality. He was everything that she had thought he would be. Strong, gentle, passionate....it was several moments before she regained her senses enough to reciprocate, but when she did, her actions were bestowed, if inexpertly, with a fire to match his own.

"Match..." she murmured against his ear.

He answered with a languorous caress along her back and then, reluctantly, let her go.

"Your mother will be home soon." He said, self-consciously nodding toward the door.

Hildegarde sighed in agreement.

"We should rest." he whispered.

The girl nodded again, and then slid to her place on the floor. Match lay down beside her, facing her in the night. He was near enough to touch her, and he leaned forward to touch her face.

"Tell me about your life." He whispered.

"Everything?" Hildegarde barely knew where to begin.

"Everything." he whispered tenderly, punctuating the remark with a gently stroking of her hair.

Still trembling, Hildegarde began to speak.....

  
  
  
  


20

  
  


In the cavern the atmosphere was becoming oppressive. Silence fell like a curtain of lead between its two occupants. Quintus said nothing, merely chewing the dried meat with slow, meticoulous movements, his eyes fixed on the woman sitting in front of him. 

In the firelight her attire had been revealed at last, and the_ legatus_ finally understood how the girl had been able to slip unnoticed past the sentries. Even if he would never tell her so for all the gold on Earth, Quintus was impressed by Antonia's cleverness- not to mention the fact that, for some mysterious reason, she was unsettlingly attractive dressed in a military uniform. Quintus scowled at the thought, an action which did not escape his companion.

Antonia finished her meal, wiped her hands on her tunica and then, crossing her arms on her chest asked boldly, "Well, are you going to say something? Or do you want to spend the rest of the evening chewing and glaring at me?"

Quintus swallowed and then replied, "What am I going to do, or what do I want to do?"

"Both."

" I am _going_ to sit quietly, try to get some sleep, and conserve my energy to bring us home in the morning. I would _like_ to teach you a lesson- to teach you to obey something other than your own impulsive desires." His tone was hard, a sure sign he was still furious with her.

Antonia should have stayed silent but the comfort of the food in her stomach and the warmth of the fire, brought her temper back to the surface, "Oh yes? And how would you propose to do that?" She tried to stay cool, and appear disinterested, but failed miserably.

"I would like to turn you over my knee and give you such a spanking that you won't be able to sit on a chair- much less steal another horse - for at least a week."

"And why don't you do it?" Antonia tempted him, leaning forward, her light eyes glittering in challenge.

"Don't tempt me Lady, my patience is very thin." Quintus' voice was devoid of any mirth. He was deadly serious but Antonia could not stop now, it was too exciting, "You would not dare do it- not to the Emperor's niece!" She taunted leaning against the cavern wall with an assured smirk.

More rapidly she could have expected, Quintus was on his feet and then upon her, grabbing her roughly by the arms and wrestling her to his side, "I wouldn't be so sure." he hissed, his face a few inches from hers.

"Let me go!" Antonia yelped. She had played with fire and now she could see that she was about to be burned.

"You should have thought about it before provoking me." Quintus snapped, maintaining his threatening facade. He had no intention of hurting her, he only wanted to frighten the girl a little, to make her pay for all his worry, but having her so near him, her fast, warm breath caressing his cheek and her ample breasts pressed against his chest, caused an effect he had not anticipated. Barely conscious of his own movements, he dragged her body more tightly against his own, and then he kissed her. It was a brutal, punishing kiss but to his surprise Antonia, after a second of paralyzed stupor, did not rebel against it. She responded with an ardor matching his own. When they finally separated, they were both breathing raggedly, their eyes wild with rage....and another emotion neither of them was cared to acknowledge.

Quintus released the emperor's niece as if she was burning and she jumped away. Without exchanging a single word, they retreated in their respective places, unwilling and unable to meet each other's eyes.

  
  


*

  
  


The rest of the evening was spent in silence, while Quintus and Antonia lost themselves in their thoughts. Not surprisily the centered on the same subject- THE KISS. 

Quintus could scarcely believe what he had done. When he had taken Antonia in his arms he had only planned to call her bluff, but then his body had taken control of his mind. Why had he done it? To embarass her? He was not that kind of man. Then why? Because he was relieved that he had finally found her? Yes, that was a good explanation......but was it the true one? 

On the other side of the cavern, Antonia's thoughts were just as confused as Quintus'. _I kissed him_. she continued to repeat in her mind. _Why did I do it?_ She thought she had done it to show the legatus that she was not a woman to be dominated- but, if it was the only reason, why she had liked it so much? Antonia closed her eyes and once more she felt the feel of his lips on her own. _Oh no, I can't go on like this! I was only a kiss, for Gods' sake! Forget it and go to sleep, tomorrow will be a long day._ Feeling calm again -- being rested to face her irate uncle was a powerful incentive -- Antonia lay down on the ground, turned her back to Quintus, and covered herself with her cloak. She closed her eyes and tried to relax, to concentrate herself on the noises made by the fire. Very slowly she felt herself fall asleep, won by physical and emotional fatigue. 

Quintus awaited for Antonia's breaths to became deep and regular and then slowly got up, approaching her and sitting down again. He knew the night was going to be cold and 'her' side of the cavern was more protected by the wind which blew outside. However, not wanting to provoke another confrontation, he had stayed silent and unmoving till she had fallen asleep. Once he was settled near her, he pulled his cape around his shoulder and fell asleep. 

Quintus woke up in the middle of the night as a wolf howled in the forest. He looked around him and shivered. The fire had almost died during his rest. The air had a sharp chill, and he would not being too surprised to discover it was snowing. His gaze turned to the place were Antonia was lying and he immediately noticed how badly she was trembling, cuddled under her cloak. Something constricted it the soldier's heart. The woman seemed so small and powerless....A sudden, strange need to protect her surged in his heart and, being to tired, he did not questioned its source. He merely acted. He snuggled near Antonia, arranging their bodies in a spooning fashion, with his chest pressed against her back. He arranged his cloak above both of them and then slipped his left arm around her waist. It took some minutes but thanks to the added bodyheat, Antonia's shivering ceased. Quintus smiled slightly in the dark and then let himself fall asleep, feeling very warm and oddly content. 

  
  


*

  
  


Hildegarde did not know how long she had lain awake talking to Match. Since he had no history of his own, he was particularly keen to hear every detail of her own, and she told it readily, grateful that, at last, she had someone to listen who would judge her for her own merits, and not the infamy of her father. 

She watched her companion closely as she detailed her family's tortured history with the Romans, painfully aware of how her fascination with Match must somehow follow from curiosity about her father. She had never admitted it before, but she wondered almost everyday if he were still alive, and if he ever thought of her. What was his life like, in the sunny lands that lined the sea? Did he have a house with stone walls and wooden floors? Could he draw streams through his house that delivered water at the turn of a little key as she had heard the tribesmen who had lived among the invaders explain? Was it warm in the winter, and did he miss the snow? She wanted to ask Match his opinions on all of these things but, of course, he did not remember, and she would not risk reminding him of his past. 

They drifted closer as they spoke. At first, he was merely caressing her hair, then holding her hand. Finally, by the time her mother's arrival through the fur flap that covered their door brought her once again awake, they were entwined tightly in each other's arms.

Rodelind made a sharp sound of shock and, reluctantly, Hildegarde moved away. Seeing this slight concession, her mother said no more, but the girl could sense the painful disapproval in the older woman's silence.

  
  
  
  


21

  
  


As she slowly returned to consciousness, Antonia became aware of a pleasant warmth against her back and around her waist. She did not want to question its origins, but the sharp contrast between that sensation and the chill that seemed to sting her face and toes was too great. Slowly she opened one eye and looked around . Still sleepy, her mind needed a moment to remember where she was but with the memory also came a question, "Where was Quintus?" She looked toward the spot where he had been sitting the night before but, In the dim light of early morning he was nowhere to be found. Frowning, she tried to get up, but something stopped her. It was then she realized the source of the heat across her stomach. It was an arm. A male arm. Quintus' arm, and behind her back there was his chest. 

Antonia's eyes widened in surprise, but she did not move. What was he doing? And how had he gotten there? She smiled wickedly to think how pleased she would have been to have found herself in this situation as an eleven year old girl...then the look faded as she remembered the kiss from the night before. Was it any less welcome to a twenty-two year old woman? What was happening to her? Antonia shifted her weight, slightly, hoping to see Quintus' face, but when she did so, she gasped in surprise. He was awake, and seemed to be watching her!

With a cry, Antonia freed herself and jumped on her feet, starting to shiver at once as the cold air met her skin her. Quintus, lost in his own daydreams, blinked at her sudden movement and could not stop pang of pain to see how poorly she had reacted to his presence. Feeling hurt -- and not wanting to wonder WHY he should feel so -- he snapped, "Put on your cloak! I don't want you to catch a cold, not after all the trouble I went to last night to keep you warm." 

"What?" Antonia inquired, sliding the garment around her shoulders without protestation.

Quintus stood and said, in a matter-of-fact tone, "You don't think I held you for my own pleasure....I was merely trying to stop you from catching pneumonia ....I would hate for Caesar to accuse me of not caring enough for your imperial health." 

Antonia blinked quickly, hoping that she could stop the humiliated tears that sprung instantly to her eyes. "YOU!" She cried, so outraged that she searched around her for something to throw at him, but there was nothing. 

Quintus left her steaming and went to the other side of the cavern to collect their few belongings. "I am going outside to tend to the horses. I suggest you to use this moment of privacy to do...whatever you need to do, because there wont be any more stops until we arrive back at camp." And with that, he walked away leaving Antonia all alone. 

  
  


*

  
  


Because her mother had worked throughout the night, it was Hildegarde's duty to prepare the breakfast, and she awoke before the dawn began to streak the sky to inspect their larder and plan the morning meal. It was early winter, and the ground was covered in a heavy snow that had fallen during the night, but there were still plenty of berries and grains that they had saved from the harvest. It would be many months before their diet was reduced to beans and dried meat. Perhaps, after they ate, she could show Match the trails for hunting, and could prepare fresh venison, or other game for their dinner.

Hildegarde prepared the meal carefully, secretly hoping to impress Match with her abilities. The meal of maize and cranberry cakes was a bit elaborate for an ordinary meal, but her guest seemed to regard it with appreciation- a fact which made the reproachful gaze of Rodelind bearable.

After the dishes were cleaned and stacked in their basket, she told her mother of her plan to take the stranger hunting.

Rodelind merely nodded. She wanted to warn her daughter to stop- to remind her that she was risking her heart with very little hope of success- she knew that someday, perhaps soon or in the distant future, the Roman's memories would return. Hildegarde's own broken heart would be the price of the lesson that her mother had learned- that in love, every piece of happiness risks greater pain.

"Do not be gone long." The woman cautioned.

Hildgarde nodded. She gave Match the bow and arrows that her father had left behind plus his sword, then, bundled in heavy furs, they set out into the forest.

The little thickets that surrounded the village had been turned into a winter wonderland. A freezing rain, which had fallen before the snow left a layer of ice on every tree, so that each slender branch appeared dipped in glass. The icicles and snowdrifts glittered on the snow in the bright sun.

"Where should we begin?" Match asked quietly. Though he knew from his conversation with Hildegarde that he had been a hunter, he could not seem to remember much about what he should do. The weapon beneath his arm felt clumsy and unfamiliar, and nothing that they passed seemed familiar.

"There!" Hildegarde said with excitement. "Deertracks...do you see them?"

Match nodded at the small indentations in the snow. "Yes."

The pair followed the trail in silence, until they came upon a thicket beside a slender stream.

"Look!" Hildegarde hissed, ducking almost automatically as the deer that they had been following, a magnificent specimen with heavy antlers, pricked its ears in apprehension.

"what do I do now?" her companion asked.

"Shoot it!"

"Shoot it?" He knew that the concept was connected in some way with the weapon that he held. He had imaged, in the back of his mind, of arrows arcing regally through the sky- but he could not know that ,as a Roman General, in command of auxilaries of Syrian Archers, (and before that, a member of the cavalry whose only weapon was a sword and spear), he had only the barest training in its use. At Hildegarde's insistance, he selected an arrow from his quiver and threaded it into the bow. The notch on the back, slid into place more easily than he had feared.

"Steady..." Hildegarde coached, placing her hand on his elbow to brace it. "Aim.....NOW!"

On her signal, Match released the arrow. He watched it speed through the air.....and fall into the snow almost ten feet from the deer. Although it had not been hurt, the animal was instantly alert. Stomping its hooves, it bolted for the heavy cover of the forest.

Match cursed under his breath.

"I can't remember how---"

"It's okay." Hildegarde soothed. "You have been injured. It will return to you soon..."

Five hours later, the girl was not so sure. Her story-- that Match had been a wandering hunter-- was quickly falling apart. Nearly a dozen arrows had been lost, and they did not even have so much as a squirrel to show for it. It was getting dark.

"Lets head back." She said wearily, turning to trace their footsteps back to the town. She had barely rounded the corner when a large, brown shape entered her field of vision.

"Hildegarde!"Match shouted. "Watch out!"

  
  
  
  


22

  
  


The snow-covered landscape might have been beautiful in different circumstances. To Quintus and Antonia, however, the situation was only another obstacle to overcome. The white blanket which now covered the ground not only made more difficult for the Legatus to find the road to the camp, but also slowed the horses considerably. The beasts advanced with tentative steps, carefully testing the ground before putting weight on their hooves. The two riders were silent and concentrated on the road. Antonia was clad again in a full uniform: the helmet on her head protecting her from the ice which fell from the tree branches. Although she was worried about what would happen to her when she faced Marcus Aurelius, and was desolate with the certainty that she would be sent away, she also felt strangely happy. She had rested well in Quintus' arms. Her desire to make him feel guilty for what had happened so many years before was beginning to fade. Antonia was could sense that the way she looked at Legatus Clarus was changing. Riding behind him, she could not help but notice the curve of his strong back, the way his thighs clung to the horse or the proud posture of his head.

Suddenly the object of her observation raised his hand in the air, commanding her to halt. Antonia reined in her mare and trotted up to Quintus' stallion where she asked quietly, "What is it?"

"I don't know. My horse pricked his ears and he is showing signs of nervousness." Quintus scanned the forest around them like a hawk searching for prey, but he could not discern anything unusual.

"Maybe he heard a wild animal...a deer or something like that."

"Perhaps..." the legatus hestitated, unable to shake the feeling that they were in danger. "We should speed up. We are too vulnerable in this open space."

"Very well, I'll do whatever you want."

Quintus arched an eyebrow at the demure words and a little smile appeared

on his lips. Was this the same obstinate girl he had threatened to spank the evening before? Still grinning, he shook his head and returned to studying the landscape around them.

  
  


*

  
  


After a while they reached a clearing in the woods which looked like the

beginning of the road to the camp. Antonia beamed, "Look Quintus, you found it!"

"Shhhh! Be quiet!" Quintus worried tone made the rest of her words die on her tongue. Pushing her horse near the legatus, she asked, "What is it now?"

Quintus pointed to the ground,before unsheating his sword. "Look." 

Antonia followed his finger with her eyes and gasped when she saw the outlines foot-prints in the snow. From what she remembered of her father's teaching she determined that at lot of men had walked in that place -probably around fifteen. She felt a shiver run along her spine but she suppressed it. This was not the time to show her fear: She could not know to whom the prints belonged but she hoped the view of two armed Roman soldiers might

deter them from doing anything rash. She drew her sword and flanked Quintus.

The legatus gasped at the sight of her determined face and bared steel,understanding at once what she was trying to do. He felt a bout of admirationfor her courage....she was so feminine but at the same time the undeniable heir to general Claudius. He looked in her eyes and nodded with approval, "From now on, no matter what happens, follow my orders to the letter and don't speak for any reason. Whoever left these prints must not know you are a woman, they must believe you are a young man."

He did not tell Antonia his suspicion- that the barbarians were very close- or his fears on what would happen to her if her identity were revealed. He was grateful that, for whatever reason, she seemed content to follow his lead.

Antonia nodded her head, and Quintus walked his horse around her mare, examining her attire, then adjusted her cape better, so that it covered the portion of her braided hair which peeked from beneath her helmet. Satisfied at last, he motioned with his head, "Let's go."

They had barely covered a hundred yards when a terri fying scream broke the stillness of the forest and a group of bear-skin covered men jumped onto the road from the hill which overlooked it. In what seemed like only a second, Antonia and Quintus were surrounded by more than a dozen Germans armed with short swords and axes. The legatus looked around him, trying to find a way to escape. He noticed that one of the attackers seemed wounded, his sword held a little lower and looser than the others....Perhaps if they charged against him they could break through the circle. Quintus considered the plan, and then thought about Antonia: she might look like a soldier, but she was not one...He flicked his gaze in her direction and noticed how pale she was. Though her expression was calm, the tightness of her knuckles on the reigns and the blankness in her eyes told him that she was almost paralyzed with fear. There is no way she would be able to follow his lead and attack the barbarians.

The Germans tightened their circle, forcing him to make a choice. With a sigh, Quintus understood there was only a thing he could do: he let go of his sword and raise his hands. Antonia saw him and gave him a questioning look. Quintus' heart constricted at the lost expression in her eyes but he could not offer comfort. He could only direct her to follow his moves. As the first German grabbed the reins of Quintus' horse, Antonia left her sword fall and raised her hands, her head bowed in defeat.

  
  
  
  


23

  
  


Hildegarde turned quickly, and then she screamed. She had been moving so steadily through the forest, that she did not realize that she had walked directly into the path of a large brown bear. It was unusual for the creatures to be out in the snow- usually they spent all winter hibernating, and the unexpected nature of the encounter made the sudden appearance all 

the more frightening. What should she do? Hildegarde was frozen with fear. She knew that the best thing to do was to pretend to play dead, but she could not will herself to do it. In spite of knowing it was the worst possible tactic that she could try, she took off in a sprint toward the little cliff that they had just climbed. Unspuprisingly, the animal followed. She screamed again as she stumbled on a rock. The creature was almost upon her now. She dug her fingernails into the .ground, trying to regain her footing, but she was too late. She cried out again, this time in pain as as sharp claw raked across her back. 

Hildegarde twisted her her head backwards, unable to fight the strange desire to face her attacker, and what she saw made her heart leapt to her throat. The creature was lunging again, its teeth bared...she clenched her eyes, tensing for what she knew must come. Instead of slashing, however, there was a low growl, and then the sound of the creature turning away. 

Hildegarde's back felt as though it were on fire, and it was difficult to gain her footing, but her adreanline rush outweighed her pain. She ran for a tree, and only then did she look back. 

Match had attacked the animal and had saved her life. He was facing it even now, the long, heavy sword that he had worn in a sheath upon his back bared and waving menacingly at the creature. She watched in half-sick fascination as the struggle unfolded. She was fearful, recalling too well her beloved's feeble attempts at using the bow and arrow but relieved to find that his skill with a blade was as advanced as his prowess with a bow was deficient. 

He was going to win. 

Hildegarde's nerves sang with joy as Match artfully parried the lunging throws of the great bear's claws, and , finally, his chest heaving with exhaustion, moved forward and sank the blade deep into the creatures heart. She barely breathed for a moment, shivering as the death throes of the animal echoed through the barren woods. at last, it was still, and Match released the handle of the sword. It was over. The creature was dead. She smiled at him in relief, puzzled as the colors of the forest seemed to fade, and then dissolve..... 

  
  


*

Match gritted his teeth and held his ground as the bear took its final breath. His heart was pounding. The terrifying events of the last few moments had been so unexpected that he was nearly in shock. At last, it was over. His shoulder was bleeding slightly-- one of the animal's claws had glanced across his skin, but otherwise he was unharmed. He hoped that he could say the same for Hildegarde. 

Looking toward the girl, Match dropped his weapon in alarm, and began sprinting toward her. She was weaving unsteadily and then, just before he reached her position, she fell, slumping into the snow, the pure white of the ground stained scarlet....He scooped her into his powerful arms, gasping at the sight of the blood pouring from her back. The animals claws had dug even deeper than he feared. He had to get her home- and quickly. 

  
  


*

  
  


Rodelind was in her garden when Match arrived home. She was clearing away the snow from the tender winter vegetables. She tilted her head to the side, wondering where her daughter was, then shrieked in fear as she noticed the burden Match carried in his arms. 

"Hildegarde!" she cried, rusing forward. "What happened? "" She did not wait for a reply.

"Romans!" She spat. 

"No...." Match ran past her into the hut, lowering Hildegarde onto the soft furs, and arranging he on her stomach so that her wounds would be open to her mother's ministrations. "It was a bear." 

"A bear, at this time of the year?" Rodelind was suspicous. 

"Yes. We came across it when we were retuning from our hunt. Hildegarde tried to run away, but....." 

Rodelind glanced at the man's bleeding arm. "You are hurt as well?" 

"Not really." he shrugged her away. "It is Hildegarde who needs your help." 

Nodding in agreement, Rodelind set to work. She was relieved to determine that, more than anything, the girl was suffering merely from shock. The wounds were deep- they were certain to scar but no great damage had been done. She would heal. 

Rodelind prepared a poulitce and bandages, moving more slowly after she had regained her composure. She watched the Roman's face, amazed at the tenderness and concern that she saw in his features. Perhaps Hildegarde was right. They had no way to know what past deeds he might be responsible for, but it was clear, from the guileless compassion in his face, that in his soul he was a decent man. Maybe she could learn to accept him. Why risk alienating her only family and friend for the shadow of her own fears? For one terrifying moment, she had thought her daughter was dead, and the lonliness of the instant had seemed to suck all the light from her world. She could let Hildegard do anything- even leave with the Roman if that were her choice- as long as she knew that her daughter was happy and alive. 

After tending to her daughter, Rodelind left the hut. She was needed in other parts of the village. The chieftain's wife was still recovering from the birth of her child the day before, and there were several families suffering from minor ailments that she needed to attend to. She also planned to call on Godeoc if he would admit her- to apologize for her daughter's behavior. She didn't know precisely what she would say, but she knew from bitter experience the pain that came from rejection. 

Match remained by Hildegarde, watching as she slept. She had awakened, for an instant soon after arriving at home, but her mother had prepared a potion to make her sleep. It was better for her to conserve her energy, the older woman announced. That way, her body could concentrate on healing itself. 

Match smiled at the steady rise and fall of her chest, grateful to know that she was safe. As he watched her, he considered his feelings. He barely knew the girl- they had been together a few short days, and yet, he felt on many levels that she was his soul's companion. She had spoken to him late into the night on the evening before, and in her hushed stories of her father's departure, he had felt an echo of his own loneliness. He had also lost something that he loved, though he could not recall what that might be. There were so many things to admire about the girl. In addition to being beautiful, she was clever, and skilled. She knew almost as much about medicine as her mother, and her abilities in weaving and pottery were in evidence throughout the small dwelling. 

Thinking back to the morning meal, the warrior reflected on the thought that he could be very happy here. He did not remember his true tribe, but it would be inconsequential if he took Hildegarde as a wife. Men always lived with their wive's families. He could belong here, on these soft furs next to Hildegarde, their children could play on the floor. 

"Match? What are you thinking?" Hildegade's soft voice alerted him to the fact that she was still awake. 

"Shhh....." he commanded, laying his finger across her lips. "Rest." 

Hildegarde remained obediantly motionless. 

"What happened?" 

"You were attacked by a bear, do you remember?" 

"Yes....barely....It seems so long ago...." 

He grazed her cheek with his lips. "Your mother's medicine has made you sleepy. You will remember better in the morning." 

"You....you saved my life...." 

Match gave her another kiss, this time closer to her lips. "Then we are even." Hildegarde tried to rise from her furs, but Match's hands pushed her back down. "Rest." he whispered again. "I will be close by." Wanting to resist, but lacking the energy, Hildegarde did as she was told.

  
  
  
  


24

  
  


A door slammed shut and Quintus and Antonia found themselves alone in almost pitch blackness. As soon as he heard a bolt being pulled, the legatus hurried to Antonia and pulled her toward him.

"How are you feeling?"

Exhausted from the long march in the deep snow which their captors had forced her to undertake Antonia did not think to lie or to feign a strength she did not feel. She leaned against him gratefully and whispered, "I am at the end of my endurance... I don't know how I am able to stay on my feet."

Quintus smiled and brushed a few loose locks from her face, "You were very brave and strong, to accept all their pushing and shoving without giving away your identity."

"You really think so?"

"Of course."

Antonia answered with a weak smile and then turned her head to look around her.

They were confined in low hut. It was not very large, with thick stone walls a single, high opening for light and air like the little buildings Romans sometimes used for curing meat. Stepping out of Quintus' arms, the young woman walked few steps away and slid to the floor, her back resting against a wall. Quintus followed her example, and soon they were sitting side by side.

"What do you think they will do with us?" Antonia murmured.

Quintus shook his head. "I don't know. I only caught a few of their words.....I think they want to keep us prisoners, but I don't know if they want to ask a ramson for us or if they want to... interrogate us."

Antonia paled at the word 'interrogate', because she knew what it really meant: torture.

She was torn away from her dark thoughts by the sound of the bolt sliding open once more. The door swung toward them and one of their captors entered carring a small lamp, which he hung to the wall. Then he threw something to the ground and walked away.

Quintus stood up and went to examine what the man had left behind. It was a packet containing strips of dried meat, a chunk of oat bread and some water in a goat-skin. It was barely enough to feed two persons, but at least it was clear the barbarians did not yet wish to let them starve.

He picked the items up and brought them to Antonia. Then he sat down again and began to divide the food into two portions. He moved to lay the larger one in front of Antonia. She noticed it and stilled his hand. "We will eat the same amount...I don't want you to starve in my behalf."

"Antonia....I am a soldier, I am used to this but you..."

" I wont eat at all if you don't have the same amount as me." She was unmovable.

Quintus sighed but obeyed, "You are a stubborn woman do you know that?"

"I know- And I think you like it." Antonia smiled and in the dim light her

teeth flashed briefly.

Quintus shook his head and whispered in a voice so low that only he could hear, "Yes I like it very much." then he cleared his throat and added sternly, "Now eat!"

"Yes sir!" she made the military salute and then began to eat her dinner.

  
  


*

  
  


The next morning, the snow was still very deep, and the air had turned colder than before. Still, the little house was cozy, and the young German girl had no reason to leave the warmth of her small hut. Match happily took over her chores- lighter than usual to begin with, since there was little that could be done out of doors. Rodelind was gone again. A bout of the flu had affected most of the town, and it seemed that everyone was calling at the same instant for a healer to visit their home. This made Hildegarde happy for a number of reasons. First, the game and other supplies that her mother would collect in payment would stretch their winter stores- strained somewhat with the unanticipated addition of Match. Also, the woman's constant absence would give her time alone with him.

Match.

Hildegarde stretched luxiuriantly and opened her eyelids slightly to look across the room to where he was stirring her broth. All morning, he had been fussing over her like a mother hen, anxiously checking her bandages, proping her up with rolls of cloth, and trying to distract her with jokes.

He seemed to sense her watching him, and turned his head. "How are you feeling?" He asked tenderly, bringing a bowl of steaming soup to her position on the floor.

"Much better."

"And the pain...?"

She smiled reassuringly. "It is fading."

Match sat the soup on the floor, and then lightly lifted the back of Hildegarde's tunic to check the bandages beneath. She shivered as his fingers brushed her bare skin.

"Cold?" He asked, quickly dropping the covering back into place.

She remained silent, unwilling to admit that it had been precisely the opposite- his lightest touch had filled her with an almost unbearable heat.

"What do you want to do today?" He asked, trying to change the subject. "It is snowing outside again, and your mother may not be able to return."

Hildegarde tried to surpress her grin at the images of the "games" which rapidly came to mind. "Oh, I hope it doesn't snow that much!" Hildegarde lied as she sat up. "but a game would be fine..."

"Do you have a lantriculi board?" He asked.

Hildegarde squinted in confusion, and then her expression rapidly devolved into horror. A Latin word- did he remember? "No." She said, quickly, hoping he would not guess what had just occurred.

"A pity. I love to play." He paused, and Hildegarde held her breath as she watched him realize that he had caught another memory from his past and then struggled to bring it more sharply into focus. At last, his features relaxed. He had abandoned the fight, and the girl could breathe once more. "At least, I think that I do." He laughed. "But no matter, what do you propose...?"

  
  



	4. Part 4

25

  
  
  
  


The next morning found Quintus and Antonia curled in each others arms once again. The last night they had agreed to lie down together without any embarassment on either part. They were both pratical people and they knew the hut did not offer much protection from the chilling wind.

Quintus woke up first but did not move so as to avoid disturbing Antonia. In the early morning light he could see part of her face and the back of her neck. 'She is so beautiful....´He thought as he watched her sleep. "…and so different from all the other women I have known. A true gem. I wonder if her husband knew how lucky he was....."Somehow he did not believe that her marriage had been a happy one- but of course he was not in the position to ask her. Just at that moment Antonia stretched in his arms, signaling her awakening.

"Good Morning," the legatus whispered.

"Good Morning to you." she replied in the same tone. They both knew it was time to get up, there was no way to predict when they captors would enter the hut and they needed to be prepared, but neither of them wanted to loose the feeling of comfort and connection they were experiencing.

In the end it was Quintus who was the first to get on his feet. He reached out a hand and helped Antonia to stand.

She tried to turn her neck but a sharp pain took her breath away, "Ooh."

"What is it?"

"I think I pulled a muscle in my shoulders....sleeping for two nights on the floor is not something I am used to doing." She smiled apologetically rubbing her neck.

Quintus smiled, "Me either."

"You? A soldier, hardened against all discomforts....?" She teased gently.

"I am sorry to say I am not so 'hardened'...I still prefer the comfort of my cot..."

"And your tub full of warm water...."

"And my barber and razor..." Quintus touched the new stubble on his cheek.

"Well, If you allow me to say so, you like quite good with a beard." Antonia had a joking tone as she slid a delicate finger along his jaw. 

"And if you allow me to say so- I hate it!"

Their playful banter was interrupted by a the sound of voices.

"Quick!" ordered Quintus, "Put on the helmet!"

Antonia rushed to the corner where she had deposited her disguise and put the covering on her head just as the door opened and three tribemen appeared. They all had axes in their hands.

"You, out!" shouted one of them in harsh Latin. 

Quintus gestured with his head and Antonia followed him out of the hut.

It was clear it had snowed again and now the white coating reached to the Roman officer's midcalf. Quintus scanned the area, hoping to find a way to escape but it was all in vain: ten more men were standing in the immediate surroundings.

"Hands!" shouted again one of the barbarians and then he proceded to tie their wrist together. "Now walk!"

The man pointed to the forest with his axe and the entire group of captors began to move in the snow.

Quintus and Antonia followed their lead, silently wondering where they were going to take them.

  
  


*

  
  


Several hours later, Hildegarde laughed as the little pile of sticks they were playing with tumbled to the ground.

"You win again." She said through gritted teeth. She had shown the game- one remembered from childhood- to her guest, and had been astonished at how quickly he had learned to play. Several small, slender twigs were held tightly together then dropped a short distance to the ground. They landed in a pile, and the object of the game was to remove as many sticks as possible without disturbing the others. Disturbing the pile was an automatic loss. Hildegarde didn't want to think of how many times she had lost today. She didn't know if her unsteady hands were the result of a lack of practice, or of the unsettling proximity of Match.

Match smiled and gathered the sticks once more into his broad palm. "Another game?" He asked, still smiling. He had accepted her suggestion that he had gained his skill in the task during childhood. Although it was not a memory, per se, it had pleased him to think that all of his past was, at least, not lost.

"No." She said, waving her hand. "No more for me. Your work is done. You have thoroughly humiliated me."

Match's face fell. "I'm sorry." He said planitively.

"No. No." She softened her lips into a wide smile. "I enjoyed it. I'm just..."

"Tired?"

"Stiff...and dirty." She shifted uncomfortably. "I didn't take my bath this morning."

Match nodded and bit his lip.

"I -" 

"We -" they both began speaking at once, and Hildegarde lowered her eyes to indicate that he should continue.

"I could bring you some water." He said slowly. "You could...I could go outside."

"I don't want to throw you out in the snow."

Their eyes drifted toward the loom behind which he had taken to changing his clothes. 

"Then I will pull the screen over."

She nodded.

Looking nervous, Match went to the fire to prepare the water while Hidegarde, struggling painfully to her feet, walked across the room to the corner where she would bathe.

Reaching her destination, she settled to the floor. The short journey had taxed her of all her strength. She had learned from her mother that she had bled a lot from her wounds, and that explained the exhaustion. She barely knew how she was going to be able to complete her washing.

"Here." Hildegarde looked up as Match returned with a bowl of steaming liquid. He sat it on the floor and then gave her a rag and soap. "I will be here if you need me." He informed her.

Hildegarde nodded. She waited for him to move away, and then began to strip away her clothes. Reaching to pull the tunic over her head seemed to aggravate the cuts on her back. She felt as though the skin were tearing anew, and had to clench her eyes tightly to fight back the tears that threatened to spill onto her cheeks. At last, the garment fell to the floor.

"Are you okay?" Match asked.

Hildegarde tensed at the sound of his voice. She was naked now, and the cool air against her skin had left her with an elevated awareness of his closeness...of the fact that only a thin covering of furs stood between them.

"I am fine." Hildegarde answered, biting back a grimace as she knelt and reached for the soapy water. She ran the rough cloth against her skin, trying to concentrate on the matter at hand, but the exertion prooved too great an effort. She did not have the strength to remain on her feet for so long, and when she bent forward again to dip the cloth once more in the basin, she collapsed to the floor.

"What is it?" match as alerted by the sound. "Are you allright?"

"I am fine."Hildegarde lied, placing her hands beneath her shoulders and trying to position herself upright. Slowly she struggled to her knees, but the jarring action of the fall had aggravated the pain in her back again, and hot tears jumped to her eyes.

"Do you need help?" Match asked again, after a moment passed and there was still no sound of her moving.

Hildegarde bit her lip. She was terribly embarrassed, but it was true that she could not get up without help. "Yes." She said in a small voice.

The German girl reached forward for the tunica that she had taken off earlier and held it across her breasts, stretching it against the soft swells of her figure in the hopes of retaining at least a marginal bit of modesty.

"I am coming around." Match said, his voice full of tension.

"Ok."

Match sucked in his breath. He had intended to avert his eyes when passing behind the barrier, merely helping Hildegarde return to her feet, but his eye had been attracted by the smooth white curve of her back, and he could not help but follow it downward.

She was beautiful. 

Hidden beneath the heavy folds of her roughly woven tunica and, most often, a layer of ragged furs, he did not guess that, in addition to her face, she would have such a lovely figure. She seemed very tall and muscular- almost as an athelete, but at the same time, very graceful. Her long hair was damp from the beginning of her washing, and it hung in heavy locks across her battered back.

Match reached forward to touch the reddened skin. The movement of the fall had caused one of the wounds to open, and a trail of blood was moving sluggishly along her spine. "I will get a chair." He said quickly, dissappearing for just a moment behind the makeshift screen, and then returning. "Here." He slid his arm under her shoulder, moving her as carefully as possible so as not to further damage her skin, then he stooped for the basin. "I will wash you." He whispered, his voice very tentative as though he were asking for permission.

Hildegarde closed her eyes as he began. Match dipped the cloth in the basin, wrung it out, and then began the cleaning. He moved in gentle strokes, carefully wiping the blood from her back, and then moving to her shoulder and neck. She could feel his fingertips moving beneath the damp cloth, the light kneading whispering against her body like a caress...

  
  
  
  


26

  
  


It was almost the sundown when Quintus, Antonia and their captors arrived in a small German village. A bunch of shouting children came to meet them, cheering to their warriors and throwing piece of woods and small stones against the Roman prisoners. Antonia was hit on her face by a branch and her cheek began to bleed, but, still behaving in a stoic manner she refused to aknowledge the pain in front of their captors. Quintus felt his admiration for her increase again. However, once they were alone, closed as the evening before in a hut, she collapsed to the floor like a rag doll. Relieved that their hands had been freed before they had been pushed in the little house, Quintus rushed to the woman and gathered her in his arms. Antonia raised her eyes to his and he could see the toll the long trek had exacted. She was exahusted, lacking even the strenght to speak.

Quintus gently helped her to sit against the wall and then he waited for the Germans to bring their dinner....hoping they were going to do so. Luckily this was the case and Quintus rushed to grab the food. Once more it consisted in dried meat and bread and once more Quintus gave the largest portion to Antonia. But this time she did not refuse it....nor did she accepted it. She did nothing other than stare ahead. Quintus bit his lip. It was clear her nerves were beginning to break under the physical and emotional strain but he could not permit it: if their captors discovered she was a woman her fate would be horrible. However he could not bring himself to shout to her or to give her orders, her pale, bleeding face was breaking his heart. Finally, as he remembered the playful banter of the morning, he got an idea. 

"Antonia?" he called softly. "Antonia?"

At the second hail she blinked her eyes and turned to him,"Yes?"

"Would you like a massage to your legs and back? It will help your muscles relax and better absorb the fatigue."

Antonia let the smallest of smile appear of her face and replied, "So you can't have your barber but I can have my personal masseuse?" Then the exahusted expression returned, "I would love it Quintus, thank you."

"No thanks needed, my lady." He used those words hoping to coax another smile and she did not disappoint him. Quintus helped Antonia to lie down on the ground and gently removed her leather cuirass, helmet, cape and boots. Then he sat down near her cross-legged, picked up one of her feet in his lap and began to massage it.

For the next thirty minutes, neither of them said a single word. As the night advanced, Quintus worked on Antonia tired muscles and was rewarded by feeling them relax under his fingers. There was no embarassment between then, even when he touched her back. Of course, Antonia was fully clothed with her tunic and uniform pants, but still it was extremely unusual for a woman to be touched so intimately by a man who was not her husband, a doctor or a trained slave. 

At last, Antonia said, "It is enough, Quintus, thank you."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, your hands have performed a miracle, I am feeling human again!" She sat up and before Quintus could react she embraced him and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "Thank you."

"No need." he replied gruffy, and stood up. The contact had been very brief but his heart was racing. He had no doubt hers had been only a friendly gesture but his heart and his body had reacted to it in a very different way. "I can't let this feeling go too far." He thought._ "After what happened years ago she surely does not want to have anything to do with you in that matter...She is only a very affecionate, tired, woman who was trying to thank you. Don't imagine things which aren't there."_

Antonia saw his expression change and felt a pang on her chest. He had been upset by her kiss.....Why she had done it? It was clear Quintus cared for her a lot, but it was probably the kind of emotion born from sharing a danger, as brothers- in-arms. She could not let him to believe she was still prey to her childish crush for him....if he wanted a friend, he would get one. 

Antonia stood up, feeling much better and walked to the place where they had left the food. She picked it up and offered Quintus his half and they sat down to eat. 

"Urgh! It is hard!"exclaimed Antonia, trying to chew the dried meat.

"Wait a minute...give it to me." Quintus pulled out a dagger from his boot, beginning to cut the meat in tiny pieces before handing it back to Antonia.

"Do you have a dagger?" She asked stupified.

"Yes, my right boot has a sort of secret place." Quintus replied putting the blade away.

"Then why you don't use it to free us?"

"Because a dagger is almost useless against a sword or an axe. But don't worry: I am keeping my eyes open and I will use it if the right occasion arrives."

"All right, I trust your judgement." Antonia sighed with resignation before an impish glimmer returned to her eyes. "And beside that, you are the commanding officer here."

They shared a brief chuckle and then returned to their food.

  
  


*

  
  


Hildegarde sighed as the rag moved along her sore body. As Match's fingers massaged their way down her flesh, the pain in her back was replaced by something else: a tingling longing that seemed to suffuse her entire body in melting heat. She strained toward his touch, her nerves sighing against the damp rag. She was so bewitched by the sensation, that its sudden cessation- as Match returned the rag to the bowl, brought an involuntary sign of protest.

"Am I hurting you?" He asked, concerned.

Hildegarde could not hide the truth from her voice. "No...."

She met his eyes boldly, letting them speak the things that her lips were not able to utter. "You did not hurt me."

They stared at each other briefly, the soft, uncertain whispers of their breath the only sounds to mar the perfect silence.

A splash.

Hildegarde's eyes darted downward as she saw the rag drop into the basin of water, but her chin was quickly caught by Match's finger and drawn upward again. He forced her to look into his eyes, and then made an inarticulate sound of hunger before he claimed her lips with his own.

Hildegarde moaned appreciatively, parting her lips slightly against him, inviting him to explore her with his warm tongue, thrilling with delight as he made his first, tentative explorations. Her pain was all but forgotten- the sting of his hands on her raw back lost in the thrilling electricity they left in their wake.

Match was conscious of her wounds, but dangerously close to losing control. The helplessness that he had felt watching her face the bear had slowly muted into a longing to protect and possess her absolutely. He had played the tender nursemaid for many hours, now he was ready to claim his reward.

Hildegarde barely knew what to think of the sensations coursing through her body. She was fully a woman- many girls her age had been married for nearly a decade. She knew what was between a woman and a man, and she had even imagined it happening to her before, when she would lie awake on her skins and dream about the Roman general she watched from afar- but she had never felt the longing before. It tortured her now, a palpable ache that radiated from deep within her core, a craving stronger than any hunger begging for a release that she did not fully understand.

Hildegarde was already naked, and there was nothing to stop Match's wandering hands as they moved in ever bolder paths along her flesh. One arm balanced her tenderly against his chest, while the other slipped lower, squeezing her knee, then rubbing the side of her thighs, then slipping between then, drawing a long moan of satisfaction. 

The young German leaned her head backwards, and her lover, while not abandoing the ministrations of his hands, claimed her neck with another kiss. He flicked his tongue along her jaw, ending at last at her ear, suckling the lobe between her teeth.

"Match......" Hildegarde's hands moved aimlessly, groping at his tunic, unsure of where to rest. She wanted to give him pleasure, to make his feel like THIS.....

Seeming to read her thoughts, Match gathered her small hand in his larger one and drew it downwards along his chest. She was filled with wonderment as her fingers caressed the well-defined ridges of his abdomen, and the made a little cry of awe as she reached her destination. Through therough wool of his breechs, she felt the prominence of his manhood yearning toward her, betraying a longing as deep as her own.

Match's hands continued to instruct her, cupping her fingers around the bulge of his shaft and drawing them downwards. He showed her how to move- in firm, circular strokes, and he began to move against her, whispering his own grunts of delight.

Between her legs the pressure and the focus of his caress grew more intimate. Hildegarde felt a growing heat and moistness as he found the small bundle of nerves that guarded her opening and massaged them gently between his forefinger and thumb. She arched violently forward, feeling as though she had been shocked, the tightening within her belly growing deeper. 

"Mmmmmmmmm." Match moaned again, and then stilled her hand. "I want you." he whispered roughly, the urgency in his voice only stoking her passion. "Now..."

Hildegarde nodded her assent, and in an instant, she was in his arms, being carried toward the fire, then settled gently amidst the furs. 

She watched in fascination as Match undressed before her. His movements were bold and unashamed. First he stripped the tunic from his chest, bearing his broad shoulders and powerful forearms, the firelight gleaming against his skin. Then, he removed his breeches and stood motionless above her, watching her reaction to the sight.

Hildegarde's body sang with excitement. She had never seen a man before, never fully imagined what it would be like, but the sight of his hardened flesh made her tremble in anticipation. She raised her hand to draw him to the floor, parting her knees in inviation, murmuring his name....

The offer was quickly accepted, and Match slid to the floor, straddling her between his powerful thighs. His hands began to massage her again, as his mouth moved to claim the rubied tip of her left breast.

Yet another sensation of delight coursed through her veins as he teased her rosy nipple between his teeth. He bit down playfully, growling in satisfaction as she arched her hips in response.

"Need...." he grunted again, and Hildegarde boldly placed her hand on his hips, crushing his body against her. 

"Take me." she begged......

Match held himself motionless agianst her for a moment more. His features were drawn, as though he were testing his own restraint. "It will hurt at first." he warned, his wanderings having revealed her virginity. 

The Germans girl only nodded, knowing already that there would be no pain.

He hesitated a moment more, leaning forward to give her a soft kiss. Then, like a stone being laid across her chest she felt a heavy pressure as he laid against her and, at last, an incredible fullness as he sheathed his body within her own.

Hildegarde had to blink back tears- not from pain, but from pure sensation. She hardly knew the difference between waking and dreams, the feelings that pervaded her body were so strange that they defied belief.

She was warm and chilled at the same instant. Floating....flying....The heavy pressure continued, Match's chest lay against hers, and then slid upwards as he began to move within her.

She scarcely imagined that the pleasure could increase, but it did. Her tension built as the Roman pressed into her again and again, her body weeping at each tentative withdrawal, and crying out in ecstacy at each answering thrust.

She threaded her fingertips into his short dark hair, drawing him closer against her as their bodies surged together, savoring the intimacy as much as the physical release. She had wanted this for so long.....dreamed of it....Match's speed was increasing, and the look on his face brought another jagged blow of pleasure. He was so nearly beyond control....

The realization of her power was the final push to bring Hildegarde to release. She cried out aloud, her mind overwhelmed with images of color and light as her entire body seemed to tense and relax at the same moment. For an instant, as she felt Match reaching his own completion within her, she felt as though their bodies were fused. They were one. 

Inseperable.

Nothing could ever take him away.

Hildegarde lay very still, trying to fix the moment in her mind. Match's weight pressed heavily against her chest, and through the euphoria of their climax was passing, she was still bathed in a sense of fulfillment that she wanted to preserve for as long as possible. She sighed in frustration as her lover finally moved away, lying on his side, his head propped on one arm as he watched her with his cool light eyes.

What was he thinking? Hildegarde felt a thousand worries crush in on her at once. Had he wanted it as much as she? Did it mean anything to him other than a physical release? Did he enjoy it? The last thought made her blush, and Match responded, running his hand along her cheek.

"Did I hurt you?" He asked softly, caressing her lightly with his fingertip.

She shook her head. 

"I didn't know that you were....were a...."

She silenced him quickly. "Do not speak of it. I am glad that it was you. I will treasure it."

He smiled at her words, letting his hand move toward her ear, and then raking slowly through her chestnut mane. "You love me." He whispered.

She nodded, willing him to return the declaration, but he was silent, lost within himself again...searching for something.

Match saw the look of fear in his lover's eyes, but he could not bring himself to speak the words that he knew she wanted him to say. Something was wrong. He couldn't put his finger on it. Yes, he had longed for her body. He has been as lost as she in their pleasure, and for a moment, she had felt "right" in his arms. His loneliness had vanished, but then it had been replaced by something different: a prickling sense of alarm along the back of his neck, warning him of danger...

Trying to shake the feeling, the Roman leaned forward and kissed Hildegarde softly on the forehead, drawing a fur around their bodies. "Rest." He whispered tenderly. In spite of the warning, and his reluctancy to speak his feelings aloud, he could not deny them to himself. He was falling in love with the girl- and he was miserable with the thought that he had caused the look of hurt in her eyes. "Sleep." He whispered again. Reluctantly, Hildegarde obeyed.

  
  
  
  


27

  
  


Hildegarde awoke very early the next morning. Her first thought was one of confusion. Why was she lying naked in Match's arms? But, of course, the memories returned to her quickly. She was once again filled with heat as she recalled the events of the evening before. She smiled indulgently at her thoughts, and then her eyes widened in alarm. Where was her mother? Did she know what the girl had done?

Extricating herself reluctantly from Match's arms, Hildegarde drew a skin around her shoulders and rose to her knees. Squinting in the faint light, she scanned the outlines of the cottage. Her mother was nowhere to be found. Frowning, Hildegarde rose fully to her feet and looked more closely. She knew that her mother had been very busy, but it was rare for her to be gone for an entire night. Surely she would have sent word....

Without any basis beyond her own worries, Hildegarde nevertheless felt icy fear drip through her veins. Most of the people in the town tolerated the women's presence because of their considerable medical gifts...but would anyone help them if someone turned their rage at the invaders against them? Unable to stop her thoughts, Hildegarde grabbed at her clothes and forced them over hear head.

"Hildegarde?" Match's sleepy voice carried across the little room as he sat up on their furs. The sight of his bare chest and embarrassed smile momentarily distracting her from her panic. "Is something wrong?"

"My mother did not return last night."

Match nodded. "Perhaps she was merely giving us some privacy."

"No. She wouldn't. She doesn't want us to be together."

"Why. Because she hates the-" Hildegarde clapped her hand over her mouth, barely realizing what she was about to say. "...hunters that wander into our wood." She finished lamely. 

"And anyhow, I just know that she wouldn't. She was supposed to come home last night."

"Maybe there was another baby?" He offered. He could see how concerned she was and began reaching for his own garments as well. "Sometimes they take many hours...."

"No...the chieftain's wife had her baby days ago...and Godeoc's daughter is not due to deliver until the Summer." _Godeoc_. The girl's frown deepened.

"What? What is it?" Match struggled into his trousers as he tried to coax her thoughts.

The girl merely chewed her lip in reply. She was working through her suspicions. Her mother had mentioned going to see the man after finishing her rounds in the village. She was going to ask his forgiveness for her daughter's refusal...what if he had reacted badly to her presence? It didn't seem possible- he was so gentle when they had been together...but it was possible. He had sons as well. They were probably off hunting at this time of year- Hildegarde smirked, admitting to herself that *hunting* was really a euphemism for raids against the Romans- but if they had been home and learned of what occurred, they might take out their rage on her mother's head. Pride was, after all, a powerful motivation.

"Godeoc." she mumbled aloud, reaching for her cloak. "I have to go there." 

Ignoring Match's puzzled expression, she darted out of the hut.

  
  


*

  
  


Match watched helplessly as Hildegarde dashed into the bracing wind of the outdoors. He didn't fully understand her urgency. The village was small, and he doubted that anything could have happened without Rodelind's daughter knowing already...

But perhaps the worry over her mother was merely a symptom of a bigger problem. Guilt stung at him from the words he had refused to say the night before. He had not realised, before they joined, that Hildegarde had been untouched, and the act would have more significance for her than the mere physical release....True, there was an innocence in her nature that he had noticed immediately, but it seemed impossible that a girl- no, a woman, so beautiful and free could have gone so long without tasting the act of love...

He smiled darkly as memories of what they had done sent an aftershock of pleasure along his spine. He had desired her, and the experience of claiming her had been just as satisfying as he anticipated. He enjoyed her company. Respected her. Admired her....then why was he holding back? Once again the memories refused to come.

Match tried to interest himself in making breakfast, but there seemed little point in going to such trouble on his own account. His thigh was nearly healed, the angry pink skin fading now, and he toyed with the idea of entering the woods and practicing with his bow, but with the snows beginning to melt, he doubted his ability to track any game, and he wasn't sure that he wanted to face the humiliation of another fruitless hunt.

Sighing, he stoked the fire and lay down again amongst his furs. It was pleasantly warm, and soon he was asleep once more...

  
  


_He was in a field. A meadow, perhaps. Instead of towering trees, he was on a rolling hill covered with low,golden tipped grass that moved in shimmering waves in the wind. He was on an incline , beneath a pink stone house, and in the distance he saw the twinkling indigo of the sea...._

_Home. He sensed it. Even though he could not place the images in his mind, his feet carried him automatically to a little road winding amidst the wheat that would lead him up to the house. A line of tall trees passed on either side. Poplars. He realised in passing....still moving closer to the house._

_He closed his eyes and let the warm sun caress his face. He had been cold for so long! It was so pleasant here. The sky was cloudless and blue. The gentle breeze was scented with jasmine and herbs..._

_"Maximus!" A warm voice seemed to be calling from somewhere in front of him, and he quickened his pace. **She** was waiting for him just inside the doorway. His heart, weary of lonliness surged with joy._

_"Maximus!" _

_Abandoning the appearance of dignity, he quickened his pace, running now, up the final rise that led to the house, nodding to a pale, burden-laden slave that called to him as he passed._

_"Maximus...!!!"_

_Only a few feet more. His hand was on the doorway now._

_"Maximus!"_

_"Selene!"_

_"Match!"_

  
  


28__

  
  


Selene.

Hildegarde felt tears jump to her eyes as the single word struck fear into her heart. 

No, not a word, a name. A woman's name.

Hildegarde couldn't state the provinence of her certainty, but it existed nevertheless. She bit her lip, trying to blink away the drops of moisture before urging Match more fully awake.

She couldn't deal with it now.

There had been too many shocks in the last few hours.

Hildegarde let her mind wander back over her actions since she had first left the hut, marveling at how much had changed in a few short days.

Her first stop had been tat the hut of the chieftain, to follow-up on Match's suspicion that the new baby had fallen ill. He was wrong. She was turned away with not more than two curt words, and finally turned to the hut which belonged to Godeoc, the last place that her mother had planned to go.

There had been no response to her knocking, and she wasn't bold enough to go inside alone, so Hildegarde had looked for the hut that the warrior's daughter shared with her husband. The girl was unhappy to see her, and the expression only deepened when she learned the reason for Hildegarde's appearance.

"I don't know where he is." She spat. "He was with the witch the last time I saw him." Hildegarde felt her spine stiffen at the word- it was often employed to describe Hildegarde and her mother, but rarely in their presence. "I don't know what spell the two of you have cast over him." The girl continued. "But you had better leave him alone. My brother's will be home soon...and my husband."

The girl had straightened her posture, proudly displaying the swelling curved of her stomach and the child that nestled within. The meaning behind her words was clear- when the men returned to the village, they would put an end to her foolish father's dalliance with the little family of healers- and not a moment too soon.

Feeling frustrated, Hildegarde had wandered in the woods at the edge of the village, hoping for a trace that her mother had passed in that direction, but it was futile. At last. She had returned to her intended fiancé's hut.

Like most of the houses in the village, the structure's stone walls had heavily shuttered windows that could be opened to let in the light or, on warm summer days, a cross-breeze to cool the house. It was winter now, and most of the windows were tightly shut, but she noticed that one of them was cracked slightly and pulled some logs from a woodpile to raise herself so that she could peer within.

It was very dark inside. Only a little light streamed in from beneath the windows on the otherside of the house. After staring for a long time, Hildegarde was able to make out shapes near the floor. With concentration, the shapes slowly resoved into recognizable forms.

Her mother was lying limply on the floor. Hildegarde could not make out her expression, but something seemed very odd. Was she dead? It was the first thought that sprung to the girl's mind, and the only one that made sense after all of her worry.

"Mother!" She yelled without really thinking. She jumped down from the woodpile and burst into the house.

The sight which had greeted her was so shocking that it had nearly made her scream again.

Her mother, blinking in confusion, was just rising from the furs beside the fire. Beside her, lay Godeoc and, much to Hildegarde's disbelief, it was obvious that the pair of them had spent the evening precisely as she and Match had- making love.

Hildegarde was speechless, her lower lips trembling as she waivered between laughter and tears.

"Shut the door, Hildegarde." her mother said calmly, drawing the coverings more tightly around her body. "There's no reason for the entire village to know."

Her daughter nodded numbly, flushing crimson as, turning her head toward the door, she caught a glance of Godeoc's bare chest. It involuntarily recalled images of Match- which only made her embarassment deepen.

"I....I should go home." She stammered, backing toward the door, and before the other woman could stop her, she dashed outside again.

Hildegarde had not run home. She had gone, instead, to a rock overlooking the stream- the same rock that she had visited with Godeoc- and tried to sort through her feelings. Was she jealous? No. She was happy for her mother- at least, she should be happy, but she had somehow counted, in the back of her mind, on always having the older man as a 'fall back' when- if - Match went away.

For as long as she could remember, her mother had never had a friend besides her daughter. Hildegarde assumed, perhaps rashly, that this was how it would always be. The sudden loss of two things that she depended on so implicitly was unsettling.

Finally feeling calmer, Hildegarde rose to her feet and headed back home. Match should be awake, and probably hungry. Perhaps, wrapped in his arms, she would feel normal again.

It was not to be. When she had found him, he was twisting in his bed as though caught in the throes of a nightmare. Although the smile on his face did not match that explanation, the strange sounds coming from his lips induced her to wake him, but she had not been fast enough. She had not been able to stop him from speaking the name....

Selene.

  
  


In the first terrible moments after he had spoken the word, she had been certain that his memory had returned. Just as her mother had warned her, he was about to awaken from his dreams and return to his old self- to the fearsome warrior of the tribe that hunted her people night and day. "Selene?" She asked, trying to hide the pain in her voice, and then she felt her whole being fill with joy as he merely stared at her and tilted his head.

He didn't remember.

She was safe.

Hildegarde explained about her mother as calmly as she could manage. Doing so, she noted palpable relief on Match's features as well. Could he actually be jealous? The thought amused her so thoroughly that her worries were temporarily forgotten.

  
  
  
  


29

  
  


The next days seemed to pass in a haze of happiness. Hildegarde's mother had returned only briefly, to collect some medicines from her basket and then darted away again. Revelling in her own happiness, she seemed to willing to leave her daughter to seek her own. Hildegarde wondered, distantly, if Godeoc had wanted her mother all along. Searching her memory, she recalled the wistful tones that Rodelind had always used to praise him....could it be that she was actually relieved that her plans had gone awry? Although she was uncomfortable with the relationship- as any child, used to seeing a person as a parent, rather than a human being is apt to do- she was happy as well. Godeoc was a good man, strong and honorable. She had been reluctant to hurt him for this very reason, and found pleasure in his promise of happiness.

Hildegarde did not enquire as to whether Godeoc, or any of the town knew of Match's presence. Acutely conscious of his true identity, she assumed a need for secrecy in the matter, but, of course, there was none. Rodelind had told Godeoc, Godeoc had mentioned it to his daughter, and soon the entire tribe was pointing, whispering, and giggling as Hildegarde and her warrior walked through the town. The young girls, who had laughed with such amusement at the older man's courtship were now reduced to staring with envy as Hildegarde, the *witch's* daughter walked hand in hand with the most handsome stranger they had ever seen.

  
  


*

  
  


In the following days life went on in almost identical patterns for Quintus and Antonia. In the early morning they were awaken, tied and led to the woods for a day-long march. In the evening they would be closed in a hut, fed and let alone. Quintus' massage to Antonia's legs and back had become a ritual, the only way to assure her a good night of rest which would enable her to bear the following day march. Luckily for them, the early snow had melted, enabling them to walk with less fatigue but for Antonia it was becoming increasily difficult to press through the days. She was not used to walking so much, to eating only once a day,or to being pushed, shoved and sometimes beaten when on of her feet slipped along the way. Quintus wanted desperately to help her, but he could not so, lest the reveal her true nature to the barbarians. His admiration for her continued to grow because she never complained or cried under the abuse, gritting her teeth and flashing her eyes with a fire which meant she was not going to admit defeat. Seeing this, Quintus sometimes wondered at what a great soldier she might have been if she had been born a male-but then he would remember the soft curves of her body and her warmth when she sleeped pressed against him, and would push such thoughts away. Antonia was born to be a woman.....

On the other side, Antonia's admiration for the legatus was building too. He was everything she hoped to find in a man. He was strong and unyielding, but also gentle and considerate; he was serious, but tried hard to raise her spirits during their lonely nights by telling her funny stories about his life in the army; he was supportive of her, encouraging her with his eyes during their march and smiling approvingly when she soldiered on. 

In spite of her determination to press on, Antonia knew she was reaching the limit of her endurance.....if only the barbarians would grant them a day of rest! She was puzzled by the fact they were kept in costant move and one evening she asked Quintus about it.

"I think they are staying on the move because our people are on their tracks. If I know Caesar and Valerius, they are turning the forest up-down, searching for us. Maybe they have even found Maximus- and you know he is more obstinate than a deerhound when he puts his heart or mind on something. I don't doubt that given enough time they will find us....Our task is to remain alive until then."

Quintus' convinction gave new hope to Antonia. "Do you really think so?"

"I know so. They will find us." He squeezed her hand and she smiled.

In that moment the door of the hut swung open and a German they had never seen before, appeared with their food and a wooden bucket. "You wash." the man said in bad Latin before going away.

Quintus and Antonia exchanged a puzzled look. it was the first time anyone had offered them water to wash and they did not know what to think. The legatus said, "Maybe they have decided to hold us for ramson and want to care for their hostages. Or maybe this village is simply more civilized than the others. Anyway, judging by the steam I see, that water is hot.....you'd better use it while it is still warm. Here," He took of his scarf, use this as sponge."

Antonia took the offered piece of cloth and said, "you are a true gentleman, Legatus Quintus Clarus. Your wife will be a lucky woman indeed."

Speaking thus, Antonia picked up the bucket and walked to the far end of the hut, while Quintus turned his back to her, resolutely deciding to keep his eyes fixed on the door and ignore what was happening behind him.

  
  
  
  


30

  
  


After Antonia finished her bath-washing quickly so the water did not become too cold- it was her turn to stare at the door and try to block out the noise of Quintus washing, but she failed miserably. In the semi- darkness her mind conjured up for the sounds she was hearing. The rustling of clothes made her think about the legatus removing his tunic and baring his chest. The splash of water made her envision him washing him self with few, precised strokes. His sighs of satisfation at feeling clean again made her imagine him uttering another kind of satisfied sound......Antonia almost jumped when she felt his hand on her shoulder and his voice in her ears, "I have finished. We can eat now." 

The young woman nodded; she had been so wrapped in her daydreaming she had not heard him walk behind her. Antonia followed Quintus, relieved he could not see her crimson face.

They sat down and began to eat. Feeling clean again had worked a small magic on Antonia and the usually tasteless meat seemed the finest food she had ever eat. She said so to her companion and Quintus replied by declaring the water he was drinking to the best beverage he had ever tasted. They burst into laughter, but the relaxed atmosphere of easy camaderie they were sharing was brutally interrupted when the door opened again. In a flash Antonia put on her helmet, while Quintus covered her with his body.

A big German they had never seen before walked in front of them and heavily accented but clear Latin said, "Romans, I want to know your army's plans for this area. Tell me what I want to hear and nothing bad will happen to you. Stay silent and I will make you. It is your choice. You have the night to decide and don't try to lie because I will know it." The barbarian smiled cruelly, making Quintus shiver, then walked away.

As soon as they were alone Antonia exclaimed, "What we do now?" Quintus turned to her and she gasped seeing his pale face. "Quintus?" she asked with a small voice. "What is it now?"

The legatus felt his heart constrict in his chest. How could he tell Antonia what the man's words had really meant? That they would be tortured in any event even if they did tell the truth -- which of course they could not do…? That the man was lusting for blood? And that, more terryfing for her, the barbarians would surely discover her true nature and treat her as men often do with captured women? Quintus closed his eyes, trying to block out the terrible images his thoughts had conjured up but it was impossible.

"Quintus?" Antonia's voice had a frantic note. "Please, Quintus, speak to me."

The officer slowly turned and sat near her. Without speaking he picked up her hands and kissed them both. Then he forced himself to meet her frightened eyes.

"Antonia....I...don't know how to tell you this....but...but...I am afraid we will not survive tomorrow."

"What? But he said we will be all right if we speak....." 

"It is only a ruse- a way to push us to tell the truth on our own choice but it wont be the end of it. Oh Antonia, you did not see how full of hate his eyes were! He as interested in our information as he is in making us pay for what the Empire is doing to his lands...."

"How could you be so sure?" Antonia was trying desperately to make Quintus deny his own words even if in her heart she knew it was right. It made no sense to alert the captives that they were going to be interrogated, and then leave them together for an entire night to agree on a common false story, if they intended to let them go. The barbarians might have been uncivilized but they were not stupid.

"I know it. I have spent too many years at war not to know it, and I can recognize a sadistic when I see one."

Antonia nodded mutely and retreated to a corner, sitting with her arms hugging her bent knees. Quintus watched her, wondering if she had grasped all the implications of his words....

After some moments of heavy silence, he heard a muffled sob, then another, louder. In a flash he went to her and dragged her into his arms. Antonia accepted the embrace greedily and pressed her face in his shoulder. The tension that had accumulated over the past few days was finally free and she cried miserably. Quintus wanted to comfort her but he respected her too much to lie to her. So he simply cradled her against his body, caressing her hair, while he felt his heart break. 

The pair did not know how much time they spent in each other arms, but gradually Antonia's sobs decreased. Finally, they stopped. She brushed her tears away and then looked into the legatus' eyes. Quintus gasped at her glance. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy from crying, but were determined and hard as iron. "Quintus, I want you to promise something." she said.

"What?"

"First, promise me."

Quintus looked at her with alarm; what did she mean? "I don't understand...."

"Promise me!" She almost shouted.

"All right, all right, stay calm." he did not want her to became too agitated. "I promise."

"On the memory of your ancestors?"

"Antonia...."

"SAY IT!"

"I promise on the memory of my ancestors." Quintus was nearly frantic.

"I want you to kill me" her voice was chilling with determination.

"ANTONIA! You could not ask me to kill you! Anything else-- but not this!"

"I am not asking. I am ordering you to do so. I want to have a clean, honorable death. I don't want to meet my father and my mother….tainted….. by the barbarians. I think this is a desire every soldier has: to meet his- or her- ancestors proudly, and I am begging you to enable me to do so. Please." The convinction in her eyes had not wavered during all her speech passionate speech but her voice had betrayed her deep emotions. "If they discover me, they will….will…."

Quintus looked throught her tears into her steely eyes. What she was asking was not unusual in the Roman culture....he knew that he would ask the same if their roles were reversed, but how he could fulfill such promise? How could he even think of plunging his dagger into her slender neck...?

He began to shake, "I can't Antonia,....._I won't_."

"You have promised...."

"Antonia...."

"Do it for my sake....I know you ….care for me...Please not let me suffer through…through _that..._please." Antonia's eyes were again full of tears.

"I don't care for you, Antonia.." Quintus said firmly. "I love you! -And this is why I cannot fulfill your request..." Under the strain of his boiling emotion Quintus' resolve had finally broken and his lips had finally admitted the truth his mind had not wanted to accept:

He loved Antonia.

Deeply, totally, absolutely.

"You…you love me....." Antonia whispered, her voice full of wonder..

"Yes...from the first day the spent together in the woods." There was no reason to deny it anymore.

Antonia seemed to ponder this for a moment, her features softening in happiness and then, as if an image of the future had passed through her mind again, tightened again."Then show me! Kill me!"

"No!" Quintus choked, "I will show my love in another way."

Quintus reached forward for Antonia in the darkness, drawing his finger tenderly along her face, relishing its beauty, rendered somehow more perfect in the uncertainty that they faced.

Antonia closed her eyes at his touch, and he moved his finger across her cheek and lashes, gingerly brushing away the little pools of moisture that lingered there. Oh, why had they wasted so much time? Why hadn't he taken the opportunity to show her how he felt before? Why had he pretended that his feelings for her had ever been demanded by duty to something other than his own heart? He was a brave man on the battlefield, facing fearsome odds

without a twinge of fright, but he had no courage in love, content to dab his feet in the shoals of shallow emotion, rather than risk the tumultuous waves of feelings like those he held for Antonia.

Caressing her cheek again, he leaned forward to kiss the tip of her nose, then her forehead, then each eyelid, his lips pressing urgently againt her skin like a brand, claiming her, if only for this night, as his own.

"Oh,Quintus...." Antonia breathed, as his kisses moved nearer and nearer her own, petal lips, "I love you too...you made me so furiously angry, but...."

He silenced her, their mouths joining at last, and he placed a hand on her back, pressing her against him as the other raked through the still-damp tendrils of her hair.

"But...?" he encouraged her to supply this disclaimer as he drew away. He did not need

to complete the sentence, because they both knew that at least part of the attraction was in finding someone, at last, who would not cower to their own impulsive bouts of pride and ill-humor, in discovering an equal, in temperment and ability.

"But....."Antonia began, and then abandoned the train of thought, more interested in other forms of communication. "But- kiss me again."

Her voice was soft, and husky, coaxing him forward, and the officer readily capitulated to the inducement. He was pleased to feel that the muscles in her back relax. For these few stolen moments, tomorrow did not exist.

Quintus fulfilled her request, grazing her lips with his own, and then sliding his tongue along the same path, coaxing her to part her teeth so that hecould explore the warm recesses of her mouth.

Antonia sighed at the touch, answering with a shy foray of her own.

Quintus encouraged her actions, sucking her deeper, nearly stealing her breath.

Antonia felt a wave of longing grip her body, and she pulled away in surprise, astonished at the strength of her feelings. She was no naive girl. She had been married for five years and had lain with her husband many times, but it had never been LIKE THIS...evey fiber of her being seemed homed to him, caring for nothing but pleasure and release.

Quintus waited for her nervousness to pass, and then moved forward again. He slid his hands beneath her cuirass, deftly lossing the buckles, and pulling its bulk away from her chest. He tossed it indifferently toward the pile where his own armor had lain since his bath, and then drew her very tightly against him, reveling in the feel of her lovely breasts pressed

against him through the wool of their tunicas.

Antonia reacted to their closeness as well, releasing her hands to roam the spare, muscular outline of his body, excited by the freedom to study his form. She moved he hands firmly along his sides to his hips, and then slid them boldly forward, touching the erection that already pressed urgently through the cloth.

Another tremor.

Feeling the shudder in her back only increased the legatus' urgency. His

hands moved now to the apron of leather straps that hung around her waist,and then, moving of their own accord, twined them in the sodden rope of her hair, freeing it from its braid and letting it fall in wild, shimmering curls around her shoulders.

"So lovely..." He pulled back a moment merely to admire her form.

Antonia watched his reaction carefully, and then rocked forward on her knees, tugging impatiently at the hem of her dress. Quintus eyed her hungrily as she hitched the fabric upwards along her knees and thighs, finally wresting it over her head. With an imptient jerk, she pulled away the band that bound her breasts, and stood before him, completely and gloriously

naked.

Quintus wanted to reach everywhere at once- to gorge himself on the exquisite curves of her body, and since he could not reach a decision of where to start, he merely stared at her awestruck, motionless until Antonia moved toward his own coverings.

In a few, efficient motions, the legatus was exposed as well, and Caesar's niece boldned her assault, grasping his flesh tightly and moving her hand in a way that hinted at delights still to come. Groaning in approval, Quintus rocked forward into her caress, matching her rythmn until his breathing grew ragged and deep.

Abruptly, he stilled his hips and pressed Antonia's hand away. Though he hated to surrender the delicious sensations, he wanted to share so much more before he found

release. Grasping Antonia's shoulders, he lowered her to the ground, padding her bottom with the softness of their discarded clothes. He covered her with his own body, the heat of skin- against-skin a shocking contrast to the icy wind that seeped between the stones. He began to kiss her neck again, and then let his other hand wander between her thighs, caressing her in the

intimate way that she had gratified him.

"More...." she gasped.

Quintus moaned in satisfaction at the unselfconscious manner with which she

accepted his touch. They were intoxicated...drunk on each other.

"Please..." Antonia begged again, and Quintus tipped his pelvis forward, pressiong his

swollen manhood against her stomach in demonstration of his eagerness to comply. He slid a probing finger into her sheath, finding her hot and wet-as ready for him as he was for her....

Shifting his weight to his knees, Quintus positioned himself above her, nearly breathless with anticipation for the ecstacy he knew would follow. He glanced downwards, wanting to look into her eyes and seal their connection emotionally as well as physically- but he gasped in shock at what he saw. Her petulant lips were set in a firm, hard line as though she were bracing herself.

"Anotina?" he asked with concern. The soldier touched her cheek, instructing her

to open her eyes as he struggled to contain his own urgent desires.

When the light orbs opened, he was shocked to find tears at their rims.

"What is wrong? " He asked hoarsely.

"It..." she blushed and looked away. "The pain..." she whispered, "I do not

want to cry out."

Quintus frowned in confusion. Antonia was not a virgin being brought to her

wedding bed, what was the explanation? 

When the answer came, he found it hard to contain his astonishment. Antonia's husband had been a fool. Clearly, he had not made love to her- he had rutted on her like a whore. Quitus' jaw clenched as anger mingled with his desire, only stoking the flame. "It will

not hurt with me." He promised hoarsely, and then, sealing the promise with

a kiss, he proved his claim.

The sound that came from Antonia's lips as he entered her was not a moan

of pain, but a sigh of bone-deep fulfillment. She could barely undertand the intensity of her feelings, of the permeating satisfaction and sense of completion as their flesh became one. THIS was why she had been born a woman- for this one moment, for this one man...Antonia arched toward Quintus eagerly, anxious to share with him the wondorous feelings that suffused her flesh.

Quintus began very slowly, teasing her with shallow thrusts, still training her to accept her girth. Finally, her hands moving insistantly on his thighs, he took her harder, grinding their bodies into the soft dirt of the hut floor. Hearing her murmurs of satisfaction, Quintus intensified his ministrations, touching the place where their bodies joined, drawing Antonia to climax as he

stroked her most secret flesh.

The woman began to cry out, so lost in passion that she was heedless of their captors and Quintus leaned forward, smothering the sound with his shoulder, shuddering at the display of his conquest. He buried his own mouth in Antonia's hair as an echoing release claimed him. It began deep within his body, and then radiated outward, rendering him helpless as he came, his warm seed spilling freely between her thighs.

  
  


For several long moments, only the sound of their shuddering breaths broke the perfect stillness. Quintus thought that Antonia might be asleep, and then he realised, with a start, that he was still smothering her. He raised his shouler quickly, relieved to be greeted by a shy smile.

  
  


Antonia was, if anything, more beautful than before. Her hair fanned around her like a shining halo, and her features were enhanced by her rosy cheeks and passion-bruised lips. 

Quintus could hardly contain his smile as he compared the woman who lay so obligingly beneath him with was the same prim, obstinate girl who had driven him crazy a few fays before.

"How do you feel?" He enquired, brushing the wild tendrils away from her

face with his hand. 

"Like I need another bath." She answered playfully, and Quintus gave her another grin.

They shared the look for a few moments, and then, reluctantly, Quintus rocked back to his knees. "We have to redress." He said simply. "There is no way to know when they will be back." Antonia nodded, and did as she was told. When the task was complete, they stared at each other in silence, trying to savor the happy memory of what had just occurred, and avoid

reflecting on the uncertainty that was to come. 

At last, Antonia broke the silence. "Quintus..I haven't changed my mind."She said softly.

His jaw trembled, stricken that she could still ask such a terrible favor. "I haven't changed mine either."

The girl's face screwed into another threat of tears. "How can you deny me?

How can you let those...creaturs do...what we did....." Her voice died in a whimper.

Quintus hugged her tightly, ignoring her feeble attempts to pull free. "I don't want to kill you, Antonia. I don't want to die with you.....I want to live with you...In Rome..." he closed his eyes, almost able to picture the scene. "I want to father your children." He said, reverently. "please, Antonia, don't ask me to kill the dream..as long as we are breathing, there

is hope..."

She looked at him uncertainly, understanding that she had put him in a

difficult position. She would not press the issue. She was a soldier. She would endure."Hold me." She said softly, her slumped posture admiting defeat. Quintus tightened their embrace, drawing them both to the floor of the hut as they tried to sleep- and wondered what was to come..

  
  



	5. Part 5

  
  


31

  
  


The sound of the door swinging open made the pair of Roman lovers jump to their feet. Antonia's hand automatically reached for her helmet. 

Six German burst into the hut and surrounded their captives, "Out! Quick! Out!" they said in awkward Latin, pushing the pair toward the door.

Outside it was still dark, the only light came from the moon and the torches that some of the barbarians had in their hands. Quintus exchanged a worried look wtih Antonia: they had not been expecting this sudden intrusion. It was so near their emotional and physical release, and they were not prepared for what was going to happen. 

There was something strange in the atmosphere- an urgency to the Germans' actions which made Quintus' heart surge with new hope. What happened few moments later confirmed it. A young boy come running in their direction shouting in his native tongue. He was clearly frightened and from the jumble of unfamiliar words, Quintus picked out the term 'match'- which not only meant 'mighty' in Quadi but more importantly was used to indicate the Romans! The boy repeated it more than once pointing to the woods. In a flash Quintus understood: the Romans were arriving at the village and the Germans were afraid they would find Quintus and Antonia there! Quintus wanted to explain to the young woman what was happening but he had no chance. Their hands tightly bound, the duo was once again herded into the forest -- in the opposite direction from which the soldiers where the soldiers seemed to be coming. Their march began anew.

  
  


*

  
  


After another exhausting day, more harder than the others because the prisoners had enjoyed less time than usual to regain their strenght, Quintus, Antonia and their captors arrived in yet another village. Since the sun had not yet set, they had a clear view of the little hamlet to which they had been led. It seemed more populous than the others and was full of children. Quintus wondered for the umpteenth time how these barbarians could be so inconsiderate as to drag their hostages to a place full of women and babies, risking the possibility that the full ire of the conquerers would be loosed on the noncombatants.

The legatus saw that something seemed to be wrong between their captors and the village inhabintants. Instead of being greeted with the usual cheers, the small group had attracted only hard stares from the locals, especially from a older man which was now speaking --no shouting -- with the leader of the little band. The discussion went on for many minutes until the older German shook his head and, with what seemed to be a resigned sigh, motioned to the group to lead Antonia and Quintus inside a hut.

The house was bigger than the others which had imprisoned them during their treks through the woods. Even more strangely, the purpose of this building did not seem to be as a prison or smokehouse, but a true home , consisting of a great central room containing a kitchen area and the furs of its owners' beds, and a smaller one chamber, probably used to store the food. The entrance to this second room was guarded by a door with a solid bolt.

Quintus and Antonia were shown inside, their hands freed of their bonds,

and then left alone.

Antonia dropped heavily on the floor, the misery of the days march and the night extertions crushing in on her.

"Are you all right?" Quintus asked and she answered with a slight smile which did not reach her eyes.

Quintus noticed it and wondered about it. Was Antonia worried by their situation? Or was she regretting what had happened the night before? Dragged along as they had been for all the day they had not enjoyed an occassion to discuss the matter. However, the woman seemed so exahusted that Quintus did not have the heart to force her to speak. He simply sat down in front of her and closed his eyes.

Antonia watched the soldier, feeling a pang in her heart. Why wouldn't he sit near her as he usually did? Was he having second thoughts about their love-making? In all sincerity, Antonia could not be mad to him if he was confused. She did not know how to account for what had happened the night before either. She needed time and peace to sort out her feelings, and in that moment she had neither, her emotions were too wild. She just hoped she had not lost Quintus' friendship. She needed her brother-in-arms back. But how to ask him?

They both remained silent, lost in their thoughts, until the door opened.

It was the old man who had argued with the leader of their captors and who probably was the owner of the hut. He walked into the room and nodded to them both, a never seen before gesture of respect. Then he bent down and placed some food and water on the floor. After that he nodded again and went away. The smell which rose from the little bowl on the ground told Quintus and Antonia that their food was not dried meat but something more appetizing. Almost at the same instant their hands reached out to pick up the pottery vessel and their fingers brushed. Their eyes met in a moment of shaken surprise and then they smiled gently to each other. It was as if, without speaking, they had decided not to discuss the subject of having been lovers, but to concentrate to their friendship. Of course this did not mean that it was all resolved between them. This understanding was simply in recognition of the fact that they needed more time to reflect on their feelings and decide if what had happened between them was only an action spurred by the danger -- a desperate way to reaffirm their will to live -- or if there was something deeper which might endure beyond life and death situations.

  
  


32

  
  


The next morning Quintus and Antonia were awaken at dawn by the sound of voices. They immediately disengaged from their embrace -- having spent the night as usual, cuddling together for warmth -- and the emperor's niece put on her helmet. Then they both sat up and waited. They knew that it was still more than possible that the barbarians wanted to 'interrogate' them and Quintus squeezed Antonia's hand in support.

They sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity but when the door finally opened around mid-morning, it was only to let admit the same old man from the evening before. He distributed two chunks of bread dipped in honey, then dissappeared again. The two Romans accepted the meal gratefully , not only because they were hungry but even more importantly because it was improbable they would be feed only to be killed later. After their breakfast, Antonia rose to her feet and began to pace the little room. The action was dictated both by nervousness and the need to stretch her crampled muscles. Quintus watched her in silence, noticing how graceful she was, even dressed in a muddy, crumpled soldiers uniform. In the end Antonia leaned against one of the walls and began to look out the small window, watching the life of the village inhabitants unfold in front of her. She saw women carrying dirty clothes to a stream and wash them; she saw a group of rambunctious children follow an aged man who was gesturing and speaking to them with gentleness and patience, probably teaching them; she saw men leave for the woods with longbows and arrow, ready for a day of hunting. 

Just past midday the door was opened again and another bowl of soup was delivered. Quintus and Antonia ate and then she dozed off with her back resting against the wall. Quintus wanted to offer her his shoulder but the possibily their captors might enter unexpectedly had convinced him to stay silent.

The sun was already low on the horizon when the door opened for a third time. It was not the gentle old man but the leader of their captors.

"You, get out!" he shouted, "Your time is arrived!"

Quintus and Antonia paled and the woman began to tremble as their hands were tied behid their backs and they were led outside their prison, to the little yard in front of the hut.

As they stepped out the Romans found themselves surrounded by the village's inhabitants. Scanning the faces Quintus saw fear on their features, not the hate encountered in other villages. On the far left of the crowd he saw many older men -- probably the village council -- debating fiercely among themselves. The older man who brought their food was among them and his voice was the loudest. Quintus and Antonia could not understand the words, but the fact that the men continued to look in their direction made it clear that the Romans were the topic of discussion. In the end, the argument ended, and the old German they knew walked to the leader of their captors and began to talk to him, determination and rage flashing in his eyes. Quintus and Antonia shared a look. What was going on?

  
  


*

  
  


Hildegarde smiled to herself and looped her arm through Match's as they

walked the final steps back to the village. The sun was high and warm. After

the harsh cold of the preceeding weeks, it seemed more like an early spring

morning, than an afternooon in midNovember. 

She grinned happily as the little town came into view. Across his back,

Match had strung on his spear, two rabbits that he had caught with the

weapon. Around his shoulders, struggling a bit beneath the weight, he

carried a young deer. 

The German had been impressed with the skill he showed in throwing

the long stick. She knew that the Roman's were trained in using the long

pilum, but she had never guessed what effective weapons they could be-

especially compared to longbows and arrows. She had been somewhat won over

by this afternoon's display. Match had hit his first target- the rabbit-

with ease- and the creature had been running at the time. His skill filled

her with pride. She didn't want to admit it, but his ineptitude with the bow

and arrow had disappointed her. In her mind, such a great soldier should

have to be outstanding in every task. Of course, it was not so- seeing his

comfort in other arenas, the spear today, and the bear weeks before, had

compensated for the fault.

Besides, there were other things to do besides hunting. Hildegarde

blushed to recall the way they spent most of their time-pressed tightly

together on the floor of the little hut, forgetting sometimes even to eat

when they lost themselves in each other.

Rodelind had returned, but she discreetly disappeared as often as

possible, leaving the youngsters alone. Hildegarde was pleased with the

deference, but confused as well. Since the first night that they had spent

together, she and Match had not articulated their feelings for each other.

She had never dared broaching the topic of the future, hoping somehow that

things could go on indefinitely as they were, but a voice deep within

Hildegarde warned her that they could not. She was nearly twenty-three. It

was time for her to become a mother...to have a home of her own. How could she

convince Match to make her his wife-- and how could she convince herself

that he was not going to turn back into the Roman that he had been?

Hildegarde frowned at that thought, and slackened her pace. There had been one blemish to their happiness...since the night of their first joining, Match

had suffered nightmares with shocking regularity. He could never tell her

what the dreams had been about, but she harbored her own suspicions.

Something in his past was trying to break free. How long until it suceeded?

She was so pre-occupied, that she did not notice the commotion at the

edge of town until she heard Match grunt beside her. She looked up, frowing

sharply at the little congregation of villagers. Squinting, she could just

make out the face of the man in the center of the congregation- Godeoc! 

More interested, she quicked her pace.

Match laid his kills inside their hut, and then hurried after Hildegarde

toward the assembled tribesman. There were some sounds of annoyance as she

entered their midst, but the crowd parted to admit her in.

The men of the tribe were very tall, and it was difficult to who Godeoc was addressing, and impossible to see the other strangers arranged behind him, but Hildegarde could make out his words by craning her ears.

"....here! they'll all come after us!.....children....thinking! That's right , you weren't......hide.....until......"

Sighing in frustration, the German girl looked around for someplace to stand higher, or an opening in the crowd which would allow her to press closer in.

There was no opening, and so she turned, meaning to climb one of the

nearby roofpoles to see what was going on. As she turned, however, she

collided with the broad, wool-covered chest of Match.

"I can't see!" She complained, and then sucked in her breath as he

scooped her into his arms and easily held her aloft.

She looked forward, shielding her eyes agianst the sun, and looked to

the speakers....and then she gasped.

Romans. 

There were two Roman soldiers standing just behind Godeoc's son, their hands bound tightly behind their backs. One of them had his head exposed, his dark blonde hair cropped closely to his scalp in the typical fashion of the invaders. The other, a much smaller man, was hidden beneath a heavy helmet. Hildegarde shivered when she realised that the first face was familiar. The soldier was from the same camp as Match - she had observed them speaking together. He seemed to hold some sort of authority. Perhaps they worked closely together.

She gasped again, and this caused Match to lower here again to the ground.

"What is it?" he asked. "Who are the prisoners?"

"Romans." No sense denying the truth. The whole camp would be talking about it soon enough. She watched his face carefully as he studied the captives.

There was no sign of recognition-- and for that, she was grateful, but

still, her heart was hammering in her chest. What if he rememered the other

soldier...? What if the other soldier remembered HIM and revealed Match's

true identity?

"We should go home." She said quickly, the day seeming suddenly less warm and pleasant.

"Don't you want to see what will happen?" Match asked, turning to follow her nevertheless.

"No."

Taking his hand, not waiting for a reply, she began to lead him away....she didn't see the captured Roman's turn their heads toward them, their attention attracted by the sudden movement- and she didn't see the look of recognition that flashed across their faces.

  
  


33

  
  


Quintus sucked in his breath with shock. Had he really just seen what he thought he saw? Was really Maximus the bear-skin covered man he had watched being dragged away by a pretty German woman? The legatus blinked again, trying to focus better on the image of retreating backs, but they were already too far to see much more than the man's broad shoulders and short dark hair. He turned to Antonia to ask if she had seen the same thing, but when he met her eyes, her surprised expression answered him without speaking. The man really was Maximus. But why he was in the village? 

Quintus was snapped to reality by a rough shove from their captors' leader.

"Roman dog, you are lucky. The council doesn't want me to kill you here but in few days I will be able to move you again to another place and then you will finally pay the price of your many sins." And with that , Antonia and Quintus were once again placed in the hut, their hand freed , and the bolt drawn tightly behind them.

As soon as they were alone Antonia turned to Quintus, "It was really Maximus, wasn't it?" she asked, in excited tones.

"Yes, it was him."

"Do you think he will be able to free us?"

"I don't know....I....There was something strange in his behaviour...Why did he walk away before leaning what would become of us?" Quintus' voice was perplexed.

"There was a woman with him...she took his hand and he followed her...Maybe he is her prisoner..." Antonia's argument was so unconvincing that, despite their situation, Quintus could not stifle a wry chuckle. "Maximus prisoner of a woman? I don't think it is possible."

"Me either," Antonia agreed miserably. ".....But what other explanation is there? You surely don't believe he is a traitor?" Antonia seemed outraged by the very thought.

"Of course not! Maximus would die for Rome, he would never betray the Empire." The officer shook his head in frustration, "I don't know what has happened to him and until we know more about the situation we should not speculate . Let's just hope he will be able to help us. He might represent our last chance."

  
  


*

  
  


Match and Hildegarde were still unloading their successful hunt when they heard voices approaching the door. Rodelind's voice carried into the dwelling.

"...overreacting. You don't know what he plans to do."

Hildegarde started as the door swung open, and Godeoc stepped inside. He looked very different than he had when he was with her- younger, and his features were twisted with anger.

"I can guess what he plans to do." The warrior continued his rant. "I've known the boy all his life- always flying off the handle. I hate the Romans as much as the next man, but I know better than to do what he has done. He wants to make an example of the invaders, but when the others find them, the 'examples' will most certainly be us."

Rodelind made a comforting sound and eased the man to a chair, pouring him a cup of beer, and giving her daughter an arch look, as if inquiring after how much she already knew.

"Where are they even from?" The healer asked as she sad down the mug. "The Roman _castrum_ is hours from here."

Godeoc shrugged miserably. "Apparently they were wandering around the caves by the river. Brettix has marched them through every village within days of here. The Romans keep chasing them away."

"Then perhaps they won't be able to trace them..."

"Or, perhaps, they'll just wipe out all the villages, knowing they've eventually got to find the right one...." Godeoc put his head in his hands, sighing deeply.

"They might be deserters." Hildegarde's voice was timid as she entered the conversation. "The smaller one looked...different, somehow- and I've never heard of them moving in groups of two."

Godeoc looks up at the girl, studying her intently. Hildegarde blushed under the look and quickly turned away, unable to overcome her embarassment for the awkwardness of their past association.

"Perhaps." Godeoc said evenly. "But from his uniform, the taller man is an officer- and I don't think that the soldiers would be looking with such determination for a pair of lowly runaways."

Hildegarde nodded miserably, seeing the logic in his words at once.

"What will happen?" She asked.

Godeoc shrugged."I've told him he can hide here for a day or two- he is my son, after all. Idiot or not, I can't simply leave them to his mercy."

"And after that?" 

"They'll move on. Brettix's friends are convinced that they should make an example of the pair. Two days is a short amount of time to talk sense into such thick heads.....in the meantime, we need to coverup their presence here. If the Romans find them..." He let his voice trail off. They all knew what the consequences would be for the village if the whereabouts of the prisoners was known. "They'll stay in my storeroom. With any luck, it won't be for long."

Hildegarde nodded. She looked anxiously to Match, wondering if he had absorbed any of the conversation, but his expression was blank. He was simply studying the other man, more interested in the appearance of his one-time rival than in the strangers who had entered the town.

"Hildegarde, help me prepare some food." Rodelind said sharply. "Godeoc is going to stay here. I told him that we would help over the next few days. The prisoners have been through a lot, and may need our services."

The younger woman nodded, moving like a sleepwalker toward the door.

  
  


*

Hildegarde arrived at the hut at dinner, a little kettle of soup and a loaf of bread tucked under her arm. In addition to the prisoners, she had made food for Godeoc's son and his friends, and she struggled beneath the weight of her burdens.

Rodelind had suggested that Match accompany her on the walk, but her daughter had demurred. She wanted him to see the prisoners as seldom as possible- fearful that they might bring new memories to the surface, and even more worried that Match would be recognized by his friend.

Finally she reached the door, and entered the hut. Brettix and his friends were lounging on the dirt floor, talking in low voices. They jumped to their feet when they saw her, reaching hungrily for the food.

"Save some for the prisoners!" She reminded them sharply, frowning to see that the better part of the bread was already gone. She carefully reached forward and seperated a portion of the meal before it could be devoured by the others. "What do I do with it?" She asked.

Brettix shrugged. "Feed them yourself, if you want."

Nodding, Hildegarde walked toward the door. She paused at the opening, leaning forward to peer through a slender crack in the door. She saw them inside, huddled next to each other, speaking in the lyrical tongue that Match had used in his life as a Roman. She noticed that one of the voices was higher than the other, and even more musical, squinting in the darkness, she tried to get a better look....and then blinked in surprised. One of the men wasn't a man at all- it was a woman, the woman from the camp....

No, a voice inside warned her. Not just a woman. Selene.

Hildegarde withdrew her hand from the door as if it was burning. she backed away a few of steps and then turned to the men.

"I...I think it could be dangerous to open the door, they might try to

escape," she stammered, "Perhaps is better if you feed them."

Bettrix threw her a sarcastic look, "You are a witch like your mother, I am

sure they won't try to escape from you. Now go inside and feed those dogs, or

go home with the soup because we certainly aren*t going to waste our time feeding them." he snarled before returning to his game.

Hildegarde bit her lower lip. A part of her wanted to run home and take

Match away from the village, at least until the prisoners were removed; but another part of her, the healer part, wanted to help the captives. She

clearly remember how beautiful and fragile the young woman -- Selene -- had

seemed to her the day she had stepped out the carriage, and she knew she had

been forced to walk for many days in the forest....Hildegarde was sure she

was not used to it and that she needed food.

The healing instinct won over the frightened -- and jealous -- woman. Hildegarde balanced the plates on one arm and opened the door.

When she stepped inside she saw the two prisoners scramble to their

feet while the woman shoved the helmet over her head. Fully dressed, it was easy to mistake her for a very young soldier but now that Hildegarde knew better, she was able to notice the delicate hands and her smooth cheek. If the circumstances were not so bad, she would have laughted at Bettrix and his friend's stupidity: How had they possibly failed to notice that the younger soldier did not sport a single hair of beard while the other, Match's friend, looked like a bear? Hildegarde kept her eyes lowered and offered the food to the Romans, waiting for them to pick up it from her hands.

  
  


*

  
  


Quintus and Antonia watched the young, scared woman in front of them and gently moved forward to take the offered meal. Quintus took both the bowls,

handing one to Antonia. The young German raised her head and as her eyes met

Quintus', he thought she was somewhat familiar. He frowned a little and then

realization stuck him: she was the same woman who had pulled Maximus away that afternoon!

"Hey..." he began to say, unable to control the natural response to his

discovery, but the girl gave him no time to add anything else: in a flash she

turned on her heels and left her room, closing the door behind her back.

  
  


34

Hildegarde ran from the house as though she had a pack of wolves behind her. Finally, at the far edge of the village she stopped and leaned against a tree, while she regained her breath. She knew that she could not return home in such agitated state. Match and her mother would surely notice it and ask what had upset her. No, she had to calm down. Hildegarde sat down with her back against the trunk and peered at the sky. It was a beautiful night and the stars were shining above her.

She hoped that the serenity in the sky was a sign that she was still in favor with the Gods...

  
  


*

  
  


The following morning Quintus and Antonia decided to take turns to look out of the window in the hopes of seeing Maximus again. They needed to make contact with him and to discover what was going on. The two prisoners spent all their time leaning against the wall, looking outside, sometimes commenting about what they were seeing. The village inhabitants seemed curious but also unnerved by their presence and kept themselves well away from the hut.

Finally, in the late afternoon, when the Romans had almost relinquished hope, Quintus saw his commanding officer's familiar shape striding through the village streets. The man was carring two wooden buckets full of water and seemed very relaxed.

  
  


*

  
  


Match had gone to the river to draw the water for preparation of the evening meal and to wash himself. It pleased him to feel helpful and he enjoyed doing errands for both Hildegarde and Rodelind, especially now they were so tense and worried about what was going on with Godeoc's son.

As he thought about the Roman prisoners, Match unconsciously turned his head in the direction's of Godeoc's hut: two heads were clearly visible pressed against the little window, looking attentively outside. Match stopped to see them better. He was feeling curious about the Romans...He should fear them as Hildegarde and the other did but he did not. Something inside hin told him they were not a danger...at least for him.

It was then a hand appearded from the window and beckoned him to approach the hut. 

  
  


Quintus had felt his heart surge with hope as he saw Maximus stop and look in their way, but the fact his friend made no move to approach the hut made him frown. He knew his face -- and Antonia's -- were clerly visible and that Maximus was near enough to recognize their features. Why didn't he do anything but stare? Quintus put out his hand and gestured for Maximus to came near, calling his name at same time, "Maximus, come here! Maximus." But his friend did not move. He remained rooted on his spot, looking at him with a strange fascination.....he looked like a child watching something he had never seen before...

  
  


In the end, he seemed to decide that he had looked enough. Maximus picked up the buckets that he had settled on the ground and started to move the direction fo the hut, but Quintus' and Antonia's relief was short lived because Maximus stopped after few steps, his attention caught by a female voice.

"Match! Come home, we need the water for the soup!" 

Quintus craned his head as far as he could and saw the young woman from the evening before gesturing to Maximus from a dwelling far on the fringe of the settlement. 

  
  


*

At the sound of Hildegarde's voice, Match's head snapped to the side and he stopped as he remembered what the young woman had said him in the morning. After dinner Rodelind and Godeoc planned to go in his home to clean it and check on the prisoners-Which meant that Match and Hildegarde would be left alone for at least a couple of hours...A smile of anticipation crossed Match's handsome feature as he walked to his home, every thought concerning the Romans forgotten. 

  
  


*

  
  


Quintus punched the wall in frustration. Maximus had been so close! -but then the woman had called him away...The legatus turned to look apologetically to Antonia. "I am sorry.."

"It was not your fault...It is nobody's fault." she shook her head, "You know, I am starting to wonder if Maximus has lost his memory for some reason ... Did you see how he looked at us? He seemed fascinated ..."

Quintus sighed, "You may be right. That would explain why he is answering to the name 'Match'.."

  
  


*

  
  


"Where were you?" Hildegarde asked impatiently, helping him carry the two buckets further into the house. Under her breath she added suggestively.

"The sooner they eat, the sooner they will leave," and then she forced a

smile that she did not feel. She knew exactly where Match had been going-

toward the Romans. They had been calling to him, and it was clear that his

identity, at least to the captives, was a secret no longer.

She was lucky that she had been able to lure him away. For just a moment, it had seemed that he wasn't going to come, and Hildegarde had felt as if her heart had begun to break in two.

"May I help you with the dinner?" Match asked, moving closer to Hildegarde, and stirring the kettle which hung over the fire.

"No. I'm fine."

"Then why are your hands trembling?"

Hildegarde gritted her teeth. "It is nothing. I- I haven't been sleeping

well these past few nights." It was the truth, Match's nightmares were

getting more intense, robbing the girl of rest as much as he.

*Well, you certainly haven't been sleeping MUCH." He said with a smile, and she felt her skin flush crimson.

Hildegarde hurried through the preparation of the meal and was glad to see her mother and Godeoc leave, a bowl of the new soup, and a crust of bread

for the prisoners tucked under their arms.

_I hope she chokes on it._ Hildegarde thought spitefully, but she instantly

reproached herself. She didn't really want anything bad to happen to the

other girl. She simply wished, desperately, that Match truly was what he

appeared to be: a hunter who had wandered off from another village, a man

who could belong only to her and stay here always.

"Hildegarde?"

She didn't know that she was staring into space until Match's voice caught

her attention.

"What are you thinking of?" His inger slid along her chin, forcing her to

look into his eyes. "You look so sad..."

"I am thinking of your going away." She answered truthfully.

"Away?"

"Yes,when your memory returns." She clenched her hands in her lap as she fought away her tears. Speaking the words aloud had made her worries seem all the more rational.

*But why should I go away? Even if my memory does come back*..?*

*You might-* Hildegarde stopped herself, remembering her claims that she had watched him from afar, and knew that he was not wed. *You might be

someone completely different*you might not want me*.*

*It would be impossible to be that different.*

  
  


35

  
  


That evening, the meal was particular adbundant and, for the first time in days, Quintus and Antonia finished eating with full stomachs. After eating they sat with their back against the wall, the moonlight filtering from the small window to create patterns of shadow and light on their faces. They were silent for a long time, simply staring ahead until Antonia spoke softly, "In case I never get the chance to tell you again, I want to thank you for everything that you have done for me, Quintus. It is because of you that I didn't break down andwas able to carry on my act of being a man. You are the best... friend... a woman might desire." Antonia took his hand and squeezed it, "Thank you."

"You don't need to thank me," he replied, bestowing an answering squeeze but feeling his heart constrict at the word she had used, 'friend.' So, Antonia considered him only a friend...

"I also want to apologize for dragging you in this situation....I know that if I hadn't been so stupid, we would not be here. I beg your forgiveness." Antonia looked at him miserably and Quintus saw how badly she needed his absolution.

"You are forgiven. You made a mistake...in different circumstances nothing would have happened, but the Gods decided otherwise." He smiled and Antonia did the same, before quickly lowering her eyes.

"And finally I want to thank for..... what you did for me the other night....I will treasure the memory for the rest of my life."

Quintus swallowed. "It was the least I could for.....a friend. You....we needed to feel alive again....I did it as much for myself as you..." Quintus wanted desperately to tell how he really felt, but something held him back.

"As I said before, you are a wonderful friend...my...my best friend." Antonia kissed him gently on his bearded cheek and then turned her head away, looking back through the tiny window. Deep in her heart, she knew her feelings for Quintus were stonger than mere friendship, but the memory of what had happened 12 years before tied her tongue. She had already bared her heart to him once and the results had been horrible, she could not risk the humiliation- and the pain- again.

  
  


*

Hildegarde smiled sadly. "I wish that were true."

"It is true." Match heistated, his eyes suddenly afraid. "I want YOU, Hildegarde...I can't....I can't imagine loving anyone the way that I love

you. Even if I am...." He shook his head, not wanting to say the words, but

needing to tell her. "I don't believe it is possible to love anyone as I love you...you have been everything. You saved my life...and then you let me

borrow yours- your home, your family, your....you- when I had nothing."

He threaded his arms around her waist, aware that his words were upsetting

her, but not understanding why. "I want to marry you." He murmured against

her hair. One broad palm slid possesively down her chest to rest in the

center of her stomach. "I want my sons to grow here....I want them to suckle

at your breast....I want to wake up forty years from now and bury my nose in

the pine-scented tresses of your silver hair, I-"

"Match. Stop." Hildegarde was trembling with emotion. She wanted his words to be true so badly....wanted to believe.....

"Why?" He questioned, brushing her chin again with his index finger, and then leaning forward to graze her lips with his own. He released her, and

then used the back of his hand to push back her hair from her watery eyes. 

"Why won't you let me tell you how much I love you?"

Hildegarde forced the edges of her mouth upwards. "I wastes time." She

whispered softly, and then lifted her hands to Match's own head. He had been

with her for nearly a full moon- and the hash, cropped Roman style had

softened, the brown locks falling in loose waves. She threaded her fingers

into them, and drew his lips against her breast. "Don't tell me..." She

whispered, arching forward as she felt his fingers- growing skilled with

experience- looseninging the stays of her dress. "...show me...."

With a low sound, Match did as he was bidden. With a tug, the bodice fell forward, the loose fabric gathered at the German's waist, ignored as he claimed her breast with his tongue. He circled it very slowly, planting a tender kiss on each inch of the marble-like flesh, and the he licked it in wet, lazy

circles, spiraling toward rosy peak at its center.

Hildegarde made a gratified sound, allowing her own hands to stroke his back. She tried to loose herself in pure sensation, blocking out her

thoughts...her doubts.....

Match continued his ministrations to her chest, while his hands moved 

elsewhere. One held her shoulder tightly against him, while the other cupped

the sultry curve of her hips, and coaxed away the last of her dress.

Hildegarde shivered at the sudden feeling of cold air on her skin, and then again, as Match's fingertips teased the sensitive skin on the backs of her legs.

He pulled away, his eyes glazed with passion, and she straightened her posture self-consciously, under his gaze, awe-struck by the pleasure he took merely in looking at her- the boldness with which he stripped away her clothes.

"Wife..." He murmured appreciatively, licking his lips- dry from constant

use- and then reaching for her again. The heat of his kiss was like a brand

pressing against her shoulder, and she met it in grateful acceptace, so

happy to be possesed.....

Match leaned forward as his mouth moved upwards along her neck, along her jaw and to her ear. His body pressed forward, the weight of his form forcing her downwards to her knees and then, at last, she puddled liquidly on the floor amidst the furs, her body melted and malleable beneath his touch.

At last, their mouths joined. His tongue thrusting between her teeth,

tempting her with hints of what would come, and she felt another shimmer of

desire. Her hands, no longer content with their restive wanderings, came

suddenly to life, clawing for his tunic and breeches. She wanted him naked,

wanted to feel his skin pressing into hers.....

They rolled awkwardly on the floor as they completed the task, and when it was done, Hildegarde pulled away, wanting to savor him just as he had

admired her. She wanted to burn the image in her mind: the breadth of his

shoulders, the powerful musculture of his thighs, the symmetry of his

face......

"Hildegarde..." Match was not patient enough to allow the delay. "I need

you...."

She closed her eyes, admiting to the same. She could feel the length of his

hardened shaft pressing urgently between her thighs. She surrendered to him,

wrapping her legs around his waist and inviting him to make his conquest.

The moment of their joining left her breathless, powerful tremors coursed

along her spine- the sensation so intense that it was almost a pain. A

hunger. A need. A destiny that she could not deny.

Their bodies fell into rythmn easily, trained to each other in the

preceeding days, building slowly, carrying them higher, faster, deeper...

Hildegarde arched her back violently as she met her end, whimpering as she

heard Match's echoing cry, and felt his seed spread within her. They clung

to each other tightly, as the fire that had consumed them smouldered, then

slowly died away.

Match's head fell forward against her chest, and she squezed him tightly, shifting position slightly so that she was not suffocated under his weight 

She smiled as she saw his passion-glazed eyes droop sleepily, and then

close, grateful that he could find rest, and praying that his dreams would

be free of the nightmares that stalked him.. Hildegarde was not sleepy, but

she was not ready to leave his embrace. She wished that she could linger

there forever, but she had a terrible premonition that their days of happiness were moving swiftly to an end.

  
  


36

  
  


"Where are your friends? They should have been here by now." Godeoc

questioned his son in harsh tones. The man was tired. Brettix was drunk, and the Romans' made him nervous. He was anxious to get his lover home. 

Brettix shrugged. "They'll be back. They are hunting...you know how they

can be."

Godeoc snorted. He knew- too well- that hunting was probably a euphemism for spying on the Romans or staging minor, but dangerous raids. 

"Go, if you want to." Brettix said, pouring himself a glass of beer. "The

prisoners are probably asleep."

Godeoc looked between Rodelind and his son. The woman looked very

weary...and the older man wouldn't exactly be sad if the Roman captives DID

get away- at least then the village might be safe...

"I'm taking Rodelind home. " He said after a long pause. "Don't do anything while I'm gone."

Brettix made a disgusted sound. "I brought them here by myself, old man.

Don't you think that I can handle them on my own?"

"That's what worries me." Godeoc said dryly. He took Rodelind's shoulder, helping her into her shawl. "I mean it. Leave then alone."

Brettix made another sneering sound, but Godeoc was too tired to argue. His son was impulsive, but not stupid. Surely he appreciated how important it

was that the Romans be well-treated at least until they were moved away.

Brettix watched as his father walked away, and then picked up a thick stick lying next to the fire and rapped it sharply against the storeroom door,

grinning as the Romans- huddled together on the floor like children, jumped

at the sudden sound.

"Do you like that, wolfmen?" He asked in broken Latin. "That is the sound

that your bones will make when we we break them under out stones...."

The older soldier's jaw twitched, but otherwise betrayed no emotion. 

Brettix smiled to see how the younger one quailed, turning a paler

shade of white.

"That frightens you, little boy?" He taunted. "Then perhaps we can arrange

something special..." 

Brettix knocked the stick loudly on the wood again, and took another swig of beer. A sound drifted to him from the closet. And he strained his ears,

gratified to discover that it was the sound of crying.

"Shut up!" the older captive shouted in angry Quadi, but Brettix did not listen.

"Do you want your mama, little pup?" 

Again, the older man responded, this time in Latin that Brettix did not understand, but his intent was clearly conveyed.

Brettix smiled.

Emboldened by the soldier's response, Brettix looked around the room,

trying to think of a way to frighten them some more. He frowned as he

realized that his father had taken his sword- then his humor returned as he

saw the hot twigs crackling in the fire.

"Perhaps now you are willing to talk." He said, pulling open the door. The

bare-headed soldier rose defensively to his feet, and Brettix branished his

short dagger. The man met his eyes, defiantly, looking from the weapon to

the other captive. He was testing him, gaguing whether it was worth the risk

to try to overpower him and get away, but in the end his resolve seemed to

vanish, and he looked away.

"Come here." He demanded.

The captives exchanged a look, then the man did as he was told, stepping

forward and standing silently as he was bound at the wrists and ankles.

Brettix lowered the dagger as he checked his work. Then, content that the

knots were secure, kneed the man who had yelled at him powerfully in the stomach, sending him to the floor.

The German moved toward the smaller soldier, flashing his teeth in glee to feel the boy tremble with fear as the German bound his wrists bahind his back.

"Now." Brettix said, darkly, dragging the captive from the room. "Now, we will have our ?discussion?." The door was left open and he turned back toward the older Roman, who was lying on the ground gasping for breath. " You might want to see this...."

"Leave h-" The Roman in the storeroom said, his voice still hoarse with pain. He struggled to his knees. "Leave him alone. I'm the commander. He doesn't know anything." There was almost desperation in the voice. If anything, Brettix was encouraged.

"Good. Then I shall practice." Brettix reached for one of the sticks,

plucking it carefully from the fire, its tip glowing a menacing red as he

brought it toward the Roman soldier's chest.

"No....!"

The cry was high and terrified, and Brettix's lips curled into a sneer. How

like a Roman- to cry like a woman....

...a woman.....

Brettix frowned, and then squinted his eyes, noticing the smooth features of the young man's face for the first time.

He reached for the helmet. 

"No!" Both soliders cried at the same time, but it was too late. The

helment was wrested away, exposing the boy's features to the German's view.

But it wasn't a boy. 

Brettix blinked, stunned for a moment at the unexpected discovery. How had the captive remained hidden from their view for so long? 

It was impossible!

It was insulting.

"So..." He said angrily, bringing his hand roughly across the girl's cheek.

"You are not exactly what you seem...." He twined his fingers in the hair at

the nape of her neck, and jerked it roughly free, pulling loose the tresses

that had been hidden in the back of her uniform. They fell around her

shoulders in glorious, unruly curls. 

She was beautiful.

She was infuriating.

The combination was irresistable.

"Perhaps your 'commander' was right." He said, hauling her roughly to her feet. His clawlike hands stripped away the cuirass in a single cruel stroke,

while his second hand tore away the leather apron at her waist. "He is

better for talking. You are suitable for... other things."

"No!" The other man cried again, but Brettix was too intent on the woman to pay attention. Godeoc?s son grasped the woman's breasts through the wool of her tunica, growling in satisfaction as she recoiled in fright. She would pay

for what the Roman's had done. She would know what it felt like to be

conquered.

  
  


*

  
  


Quintus watched in horror as Antonia's identity was exposed, knowing with sickening certainty what was to come. His body was still in agony from the

blow the Germans had dealt, but he forced himself to ignore the pain. He had to save her. If they were going to try to escape, it must be now. He had not made out all of the German's earlier conversation, but it seemed that the other guards had not returned. If they were lucky....

Twisting wildly, he fished the dagger from his boot, holding it awkwardly

between his bound wrists and sawing away the ropes that held his feet.

Antoina was crying. Looking up, for only an instant, Quintus saw that the

German had finished stripping away her armor. His hands were moving on her body now, touching her irreverantly.....Quintus felt as if he would vomit as the other man's hands pushed Antonia's tunica to her waist, and then pushed her

forward across the table.

Anger surged within the legatus. With a fierce cut, the ropes at his feet

at last fell free, and he did not wait to unbind his wrists, clutching the

blade between his two hands as he hurried across the room.

*

"No..."Antonia whimpered, her pride forgotten in her despreation. "Please, please...."

Brettix merely growled, her helplessness merely stoking his lust.

The Roman bit her lip, clenching her eyes tightly, knowing what was to come and praying that the Gods would give her the courage to endure it....

But Brettix did not begin the rape. There was a gurgling. Then the sound of a body slumping to the floor. Then silence.

"Antonia..." The hands that pressed her tunica down did not belong to

Brettix. She turned quickly, amazed to find the Germans collapsed on the

floor, blood spilling from stab wound in his back.

The world seemed to spin, and for a moment, she felt as though she would collapse. Then, relief washed over her like a flood, bringing with it all of

the terrified tears that she had held within.

"Antonia-" Quintus tried to keep his voice even, but he could not hide his

desperation. The others could return at any moment. They had to leave

quickly. "Turn around and let me cut the bidings.."

Antonia meekly obeyed, and he sawed through the ropes

at her wrists. "Now mine...."

Clearly, the girl was still in shock, but she was s soldier through and

through. Like the men that Quintus commanded, when she was no longer capable of thought, her training carried through, and Antonia quickly freed his

wrists, smartly reaching for the dagger in Brettix's own belt before heading

quickly to the door.....


	6. Part 6

37

  
  
  
  


Quintus and Antonia rushed out of the hut and looked around them: it was late night and all the village inhabitants seemed to have retired to their homes. The two Romans needed to escape- but where? In the darkeness they could not see the path leading to the road.....they needed to wait for the dawn. Quintus pursed his lips. They needed help, but from whom? Then he thought of Maximus. He seemed not to remember them, but maybe they could help him to regain his memory.....Without hesitating anymore, Quintus grabbed Antonia's hand and ran to the solitary hut where Maximus had disappeared that afternoon.

  
  


*

  
  


Hildegarde was jerked awake from her slighty sleep by Match's whimpers and trashing on the floor. After they had made love, she had joined him in a relaxed slumber, but now all her tension returned in full force. She rose on her knees, ignoring the cold air on her naked back and shook Match, trying to awake him.

"Match, please wake up! It is only a nightmare! Wake up my love...." she repeated again and again.

Finally, Match's blue eyes opened.

"Hildegarde?" he whispered uncertainly.

"Yes, I am here." She caressed his sweat-soaked hair. "It is all right, you had a nightmare."

"I dreamed about the Romans....the two prisoners....Hildergarde, I feel inside me that I know them, but how it is possible?" he was looking at her like a lost child, begging for an explanation.

Hildegarde bit her lower lip, fighting a sense of panic.....Match was starting to remember...

Seeing he was still waiting for an answer she began to speak, "Maybe you met them in the past....not all the Romans are cruel. Maybe they were gentle with you and.." Her words were interrupted by the door slamming open. They both turned their heads and gasped then they saw the very objects of their conversation staring at them on the door.

  
  


*

Quintus and Antonia remained frozen on the spot, gaping at the scene in front of them: Maximus was lying on a bed of fur with the young woman kneeling beside him. They were both naked. After a second of stupor, Maximus scrambled to his feet, covering himself and placing his body protectively between the newcomers and the woman. 

Quintus shook off his shock, "Maximus you must help us!"

To his surprise Maximus did not respond. He remained where he was staring him with an open wonder in his eyes.

"Maximus!" Quintus called again, taking him by the shoulders and shaking him, "Please remember us, we need your help!" The legatus' voice was growing frantic, but the only reaction he got from the other man was a whispered, "Who are you? Why do you know me?"

Antonia stepped in the conversation and exclaimed, "Maximus, he is Quintus, your...." A noise behind her back prevented her from finishing the sentence. The Romans turned, and they saw it was the older man in whose hut they had been kept prisoner and the woman who had brought their dinner that evening.

"What's going on?" Godeoc asked, shifting his gaze from the prisoners to Match and Hildegard. 

Quintus held his dagger tightly: he did not want to hurt the old man but he did not wish to be caught again- especially now that Antonia's identity had been revealed.

Silence was the only answer to the German's question and so he added angrily, "What did you to my son? Where is Bettrix?" As if in answer, the sound of running could be hear through the open doo. Another boy appeared on the thereshold.

"Father!"

Godeoc turned to see his younger son.

"What is it?"

"The Romans have captured Bettrix's friends!!" the boy answered, his hurried breath revealing that he had run for a long time.

"What? Ratchis, go to our home and look for your brother! The Romans prisoners have escaped and I want to know what happened to him!"

Godeoc's son sprinted away obediantly.

Quintus did not understand the words but the hurried tone of the older man and the boy's quick retreat gave him a clue of what was going on. He and Antonia had to escape. Now! He raised his dagger, wanting only to threaten the unarmed German but before he could move a pair of muscled arms captured him from behind, stilling his movements. Quintus dropped the weapon as his right arm was twisted awkwardly behind his back. The physical pain was nothing compared to realisation of what had happened: Maximus had just disarmed him, leaving him defenseless in front of their enemies!

Few minutes later the boy returned, his face even paler than before.

"Father, Bettrix has been wounded....He is loosing a lot of blood!"

Godeoc's normally placid face contorted in an angry grimace and he railed at Quintus, "You will pay for this!" he shouted. "Ratchis, fetch some rope to tie these dogs and then wake the council members. I want a meeting as soon as possible."

"Yes, Father." 

As the boy ran away again, Rodelind touched Godeoc on the shoulder, "I will go to see to Bettrix. I will do my best to save him."

Godeoc smiled slightly in thanks and nodded. Rodelind grabbed her basket full of herbs and disappeared in the night.

  
  


38

  
  


Hildegarde quickly pulled on a dress, and ran after her mother. She tried not to look back as the Roman captives were herded toward the council chambers. Godeoc's younger son ran from hut to hut, waking the village elders, and the previously deserted streets were suddenly buzzing with activity as word of Brettix's attack- and the proximity of the Roman army, flowed through the town with blinding speed.

When the healers arrived at the hut, Brettix was conscious. He was still lying face forward on the ground, moaning softly in pain, blood flowing copiously from his back.

Rodelind took charge. With a quick nod, she indicated that Hildegarde

should begin boiling water over the fire, while she fell to her knees beside

the boy and tried to take a measure of the sitation. "What happened?" She

asked, more interested in the sound of his voice than the actual words of

his reply.

"The Roman....wolves....they escaped and attacked me."

By the fire, Hildegarde felt a twinge of relief. His words were faint, but

clear- the Roman blade had not punctured his lung. 

"...from behind.....cowards...."

"And they unfastened your trousers?" The tone of Rodelind's voice was

scolding, and Hildegarde turned around. Surprised to see what her mother had

said was true.

Brettix merely gritted his teeth in reply. "Work witch." He spat.

Hildegarde saw anger flash in her mothers cheek, and admired the control

with which the older woman held her tongue. She hesitated only a moment,

then peeled away the blood-stained tunic of her patient and set to work. Her

daughter felt a sense of strong admiration. Rodelind was helping Brettix not

because she wanted to, but out of love for Godeoc, putting his needs before

hers....

Hildegarde felt her stomach tighten as she thought of Match. When the

Romans arrived in her hut, she had thought only of making them go

away- and keeping Match close by. What if this girl, this...Selene really

were his wife? What if, in spite of what he said, Match really did love the

woman as much as he loved her? What if....what if she gave him the chance to

make the choice on his own? Who would he choose?

"Hildegarde! I need the water please."

The snapped orders were a welcome distraction, and the girl fell imediately to work. 

"What will happen to the Romans now?" She asked, handing her mother a cup of steaming liquid and a bundle of gauze.

"They'll get what they deserve." Brettix snarled, then he yelped as

Rodelind prodded his wound a little more strongly than necessary. 

Even so, the older woman sighed. "I imagine that they will be executed.

Godeoc was the linchpin of support for keeping them alive...and now....."

Hildegarde felt her face go white. It was one thing not letting Match know

that his wife was nearby- it was quite another to keep him in ignorance while

she was killed...She thought back guiltily to the way that Match had moved

to protect her from the oldest soldier's sword- stripping him of the knife

that was his only defense. When- if- his memory returned, he would be left

with the knowledge that he had contributed, if not caused their capture.

Could he live with that truth? 

"Mother, do you need me here any longer?" Hildegarde said quickly. "I

should...let Godeoc and the others know that Brettix will survive." Perhaps

if the council were informed she could prevent a rash decision. Maybe they

would merely be sent away......

  
  


*

  
  


When Hildegarde reached the central tent, the atmosphere inside was already loaded with tension. The council members were speaking among them in hushed tones. The young woman began to elbow her way inside, trying to reach Godeoc.

When she finally was able to do, she touched his arm gently.

The warrior turned sharply and seemed to brace himself as he recognized her. 

"Bettrix..?"

"He will live. His wound is painful but not life threatening."

"The Gods be blessed!" Godeoc closed his eyes in relief.

"Godeoc?" Hildegarde began timidly.

"Yes?"

"Since he will not die, why don't you simply send the prisoners away?"

"No! We will make an example out of them!" another man interjected angrily and Godeoc nodded.

"Godeoc! One of the soldiers was a woman. Bettrix tried to rape her and the soldier stabbed him to prevent it!"

Hildegarde grabbed his arm, and looked pleadely into his eyes.

"It is too late, Hildegarde, the council has decided. German blood had been shed....and only Roman blood can wash it away.*

"Yes, we will cut them into many pieces and scatter them in the woods!" called out another council member, his eyes lit by a fanatical light.

Hildegarde bowed her head in defeat, realising that there was no way to make them change their minds. Slowly she turnerd on her heels and left the tent. As she walked, the young woman admitted to herself that she and Match were the only chance for escape that the two prisoners had left. She could not let them die while she did nothing. They did not deserve it- and because Match might never forgive her if she let Selene die.

Asking for Match's help meant revealing to him who he really was. Hildegarde stopped, feeling tears prick behind her eyelids. She knew she that she would probably loose Match...she would find a way to endure it,but she could never learn to bear his hate. His happiness mattered more than anything else. She loved him enough to let him go.

  
  


39

  
  


Match was waiting for Hildegarde in the hut, pacing back and forth in the little room. As soon as the door opened a smile appeared on his tired face and he ran to embrace her, buring his nose in her hair. "Thanks the Gods you are here, I need you so badly. I am so confused...."

Hildegarde hugged him back, the tone of his voice almost causing her to

change her mind. He sounded so lost! She wanted to protect him and tell him that it would be all right......but that was not possible. Gently but firmly she freed herself from his embrace and said, looking into his troubled

eyes, "Match, I must tell you something, something very important."

He looked at her, his deep blue eyes studing her face, inviting her to go.

Hildegarde twisted her hands in pain, "I lied to you Match."

"What?"

She sighed deeply, "I lied about your identity....You are not a wandering

hunter, Match. You are....." her voice broke.

Match looked at her desperate, "What I am Hildegarde....tell me..please"

"You are a Roman, Match. The commander of a camp...your men call you

'General'."

Match's eyes were wide as he tried to absorb the shock, "It isn't

possible...I can't be a Roman...I" he whispered.

Hildegarde regarded him with eyes full of tears, "To be a Roman is not

necassarly a bad thing.....and I know you are a good man....loved by your

soldiers....and by your friends...."

"The two prisoners....they knew me. They called me Maximus.....Is that my

name?" Match seemed very calm but the pallor of his face denoted otherwise.

"I don't know, but I know they are your friends.....We must help them to

escape." Hildegarde berated herself to not be able to tell him her suspicions about the woman but she could not bring herself to voice her worst fear. 

Match was silent for a long time, considering what he had heard. He

wished that the conversation was only a bad dream, one of his frequent nightmares, but he knew that it was the truth. He was a Roman. And the prisoners needed his help. Shaking his head to clear his mind he looked at Hildegarde and asked, "What can we do?"

"I know where they are being held. They are tied up securely, so there may not be a heavy guard....Tomorrow morning when I take them their breakfast, I can untie them and give them some small weapons to protect themselves. We will run to the forest, and I will show you the way back to your camp."

"But what if you are seen? Hildegarde?" Maximus had only just learned his identity, and the thought of assisting the *invaders* was still almost distasteful to him . "If they knew that you were helping..."

"It doesn't matter." Hildegarde said truthfully. Nothing would matter to her after Match was gone. "wait for us by 'our' rock." She was speaking of the perch where Godeoc used to take her. "Bring food and weapons. We will come as soon as possible."

Match nodded solemnly. "What if they try to hurt you?"

"The Romans?"

He nodded.

Hildegard bit her lip. He was right. She did not know any Latin, and the

Romans might not know her tongue. There was no garuntee that they would want her assistance in the escape after they had been freed. She shivered, and

then shrugged. "We will have to take the risk."

  
  


*

  
  


It was almost dawn, but neither Quintus, nor Antonia slumbered. To do so would have been almost impossible- both from the discomfort they felt being bound tightly at the wrists and ankles, and the certainty that today they would die. 

Antonia had not spoken since their recapture, and Quintus had remained

silent as well. He wanted offer her comfort, but, as before, he respected her too much to lie. They were out of hope. If these barbarians were like the others, they would be executed as soon as the sun rose across the horizon. The distant pink-tinged clouds that they could see through the window was the herald of their end.

He looked at the sky, and at Antonia again. Her gaze was fixed and distant, and he wondered what she was thinking. Was she cataloguing her

life, thinking of the things left undone?Quintus sighed and forced his gaze

away, almost anxious for morning to come and the terrible waiting to be at

an end.

"Are you frightened?"

After so many houirs of stillness, Antonia's voice was like a shock, and

Quintus took a moment to respond. "Frightened?"

"Of...."she looked down. "Of dying...." She looked at her hands, adjusting

them slightly, and then turned her chin away. "I wish that I wasn't...I somehow thought I would be ...." she left the final word unsaid, her voice waivering.

Quintus nodded. "Change is always frightening. Facing death in battle- with the movement, the adreanaline the..." He searched for a word. "..the sense

of purpose is not like this." He gave her a gentle smile. "You have been

very brave, Antonia."He watched as the look gained an unfelt smile, before

Antonia was lost again in her thoughts.

"What are you thinking?" 

"About.....about time." She finished at last. "All the time I wasted."

Quintus nodded, knowing exactly how she felt. 

"About regrets...."

"Regrets?" He felt his stomach tighten in apprehension. "What do you have to regret, Antonia?"

She shook her head. "Silly things I wish I had done....I wanted to go to

Eygpt, and I wanted a home of my own...." She looked at her hands. "A baby...."

Quintus smiled softly as the image of Antonia as a mother came to her mind. He could picture the scene clearly: her hair loosed around her shoulders as she cradled a tiny newborn to her chest....and then later, a great herd of sons roaming her house, wild and mischevious as little boys were apt to be until their mother- ever the general's daughter- called them to attention.

"What do you regret?" She asked softly.

Quintus took a breath. 

There were many things, truly, that he would like to take back in his life, but at that moment, he wanted nothing so badly as to tell Antonia how he

felt about her..It was the one thing he still had time to change...Taking a

deep breath, Quintus gathered his courage. There could be no harm now,

surely! "I regret....."

The sound of the doorbolt being pulled back stopped him midsentence, and he craned his neck toward the door. Antonia's features fell slack, and she gave him a look that said "So, this is the end?"

The door swung open, slowly, and the little German girl they had seen with Maximus stepped inside.

  
  


*

  
  


Hildegarde hurried through the doorway,not wanting to risk a chance that the guards would stop what she was about to do. They had been puzzled when she arrived with a morning meal for the prisoners. They noted, quite

correctly, that at this point, it hardly mattered whether they ate or not.

One of the men had reached forward to claim the basket for himself-

terrifying Hildegarde that the bundle of knives that she had tucked within

the bread would be discovered. In the end, they had merely waved her

through. Now she faced a new horror. The Romans' were awake, and they didn't

look happy.

"[in Latin] Who are you?" The man said harshly. "Where is Maximus? What have you done with him?" hildegarde took a half-step back. The only word that she understood was "Maximus", and she could tell that the man was angry. 

"I am here from Maximus." She said slowly, hoping that he would understand. 

"From Maximus?" The man repeated. His pronunciation was pitiful, but at least he had understood.

"I will take you to him." Without waiting for a response, Hildegarde's fingers flew to the knots on the man's wrists, loosening them quickly. She offered him a knife, and he accepted it readily, slicing through the bindings at his ankles, then lunging for the other woman. "Antonia!" He said sharply, freeing her wrists as well. 

The two Romans exchanged excited whispers, and then stepped forward again.

Hildegarde was suprised when the woman reached for a knife as well. Did she know how to use it? The Gernan thought that all Roman ladies were elegant dolls who floated around in lovely dresses, never dirtying their hands with steel. As if in answer to the question, the woman took the dagger and 

brandished it carefully in her hand. She nodded to show that she was ready

to continue.

"Follow." Hildegarde said, motioning with her arm.

They tiptoed quietly from the hut. Godeoc and the guards assigned to watch the Romans were gathered around a fire nearby, paying little attention to their charges, secure in the strength of the ropes which held their condemned prisoners in place.

Hildegarde shut the door very quietly, and then, barely waiting to see if

the Romans were after her, hurried toward the woods.

They were almost there. A few more feet.....

"Hey!" 

Hildegarde cursed as one of the men around the fire happened to turn,

catching sight of the little group immediately. His cry alerted the others,

and the girl gasped as she saw one of them reaching for a bow. If he began

to shoot...

"[in latin] Go!" The Roman man shouted, pushing his companion further toward the woods. Then, in a motion so swift that she could only blink, the German girl felt his hands tighten around her neck, the shining blade that she had given to him grazing the skin ofher neck.

"Don't move!" He shouted back at them in their language. "I Kill her! Kill!"

Icy terror ran along the girl's spine, then anger at the betrayal of the

Roman...and finally, a shimmer of hope. Was it possible that he was merely

acting? Perhaps the Roman was smarter than she thought.

The man with the bow looked to Godeoc for directions, and she sighed in

relief as the bow was lowered.....and then she was drug backwards toward the

woods.

"Let me go!" She screamed when they finally found the cover of the trees.

She was relieved, and a little surprised when her order was obeyed. The man lowered the knife, though he still held tightly to her arm. His grip loosened slightly as the his companion rejoined their group. "Maximus!" The man ordered.

Hildegard nodded. '"Come."

  
  
  
  


40

  
  


Match was waiting near the rock, pacing back and forth as he opened and closed his fists tensely. Where was Hildegarde? Was she all right? Had the escape plan worked?

He heard a noise behind his back and hurried to hide behind a fallen tree, scanning the area attentively. A relieved sigh escaped him as Hildegarde and the two Romans burst in the clearing

"Match!" called the young German, "Come on! We have to hurry!"

He did as she asked and rushed to her side, glaring at the man who was holding Hildegarde by the arm. Quintus saw the hard stare and understood at once that even if Maximus was helping them, he still did not remember who he was. Not wanting to anger his commander, Quintus let the girl go. 

Hildegarde massaged her wirst and said, "Come, we have little time."

The group began to run through the forest. Hildegarde led them along a series of small paths that twisted between trees, over rock formations and across a stream, before they reached the main road. Once there, their escape became easier and more certain. 

As the march progressed -- with Hildegarde in the lead, followed by Antonia, Quintus and finally "Match" -- the legatus began to recorgnize familiar landmarks. He was certain that the camp was near...

Suddently the ground began to tremble and the four fugitives looked at each other nervously. What was happening? An earthquake? Then, before any of them could do anything, a wall of sturdy-looking horses thundered around the curve of the road, heading in their direction.

At the majestic but terrifying view of the Felix cavalry regiment coming in their way, Match and Hildegarde reacted by jumping out of the road and hiding in the brush, while Quintus let out a relieved sigh, before stepping to the center of the lane and shouting, "Halt!"

The riders' commander raised his hand and the horses slowed to a trot and finally to halt. Quintus and Antonia bounded toward the soldiers.

Valerius jumped down the saddle and exclaimed, "Sir! You can't know what a pleasure is to see you!" Then he turned to Antonia, "My Lady, you are a vision. The Emperor is so worried about you." Quintus and Antonia would have loved to lose themselves in small talk, if only to savor the sound of Latin words spoken by a Roman mouth after so many days of harsh grunts, but they knew such pleasures would have to wait. Finally remembering of Maximus, Quintus turned around and called, "Maximus? It's all right, Maximus, come out." Receiving no answer, he repeated the phrase in broken Quadi, hoping to coax the pair leave their hiding place. 

After an awkward pause Match and Hildegarde appeared in the road and slowly approached the army. Maximus kept a firm grip on his spear, and made certain that his lover followed him closesly.

As soon as the Felix Regiment recognized its general, the released a whoop of joy. Some of the men broke ranks to surround their commander and pat his back, celebrating his return. 

Match looked nervously at the smiling but unfamiliar faces. He could not shake his fear, in spite of the inside that assured him he had nothing to fear.

Valerius walked toward Maximus and the hulking legate offered his general the same enthusiastic greeting that he had bestowed upon Quintus. However he frowned when Maximus did not answered it. Valerius looked to the second in command. 

Quintus shook his head,"It is long story. He is not well. We must take him to the camp as quickly as possible. He and the Lady Antonia may require medical attention and I should warn you that we are being pursued by a group of angry Germans."

Valerius nodded, "We were preparing to march on the Brown Bear village and...."

"It is no longer necessary, Valerius. Return us to the camp."

"As you wish, sir."

At that moment, the Germans who had been followed the fugitives appeared in the road, armed with bow, axes and swords. Some men of the Felix Regiment formed a protective wall around their superior officers, giving Antonia, Maximus, Quintus and Hildegarde the time to climb onto horseback behind four of the soldiers and gallop away from the peril of the forest, to the safety of the Roman camp.

  
  


41

  
  


Match heard the sounds of battle commencing behind him, but he did not

turn back. He felt as though he were not inside his body at all-as though he

were dreaming and soon he would wake up in his hut, curled in the furs next to Hildegarde, ready to spend the day fishing or helping her in the garden.

"[in Latin] The castrum, I see it!" The Roman woman said, and Match's fingers tightened on the reins as the sounds, at first mere syllables, slowly coalesced into

words.

"[in Latin] Open the gates!" A soldier cried, and in front of them, the heavy

wooden entrance of the roman camp swung wide to admit the travelers.

Match stared at the things around him, familiar and terrifying at the

same time. Hundreds of soldiers littered the grounds milling between an endless

sea of white tents. The little dwellings were pitched in perfectly straight lines. In their center was a little town of sorts- a blacksmith, stables, and an open cookshack from which eminated the delectable scent of freshly baked bread…

"Stop." Again, the words made sense, and Match did as he was told. The

soldier who had been a German prisoner- Quintus- called for the attention of another man. 

"Where is Fabius?" he asked asked.

"In his quarters, sir." Came the reply.

"Fetch him at once. He is needed to tend to the general."

"Yes, sir!" With another shocked look, the man disappeared into the rows of tents.

Quintus swung off his horse, then lifted his hand to assist the lady. She slid down from the horse awkwardly- her joints stiff and body battered.

"Go and see the doctors, Antonia." The man murmured against the woman's

hair. "I will tell your uncle that you are safe."

"I'm fine." She whispered in return. "Just tired and dirty…"

"Hungry?" The man slid his finger tenderly along her jaw. "Please…I am sure that he will release you soon. It is what I am sure your uncle will want…"

At last the woman relented. Match narrowed his eyes at the look of longing she gave to the man who had addressed her. It seemed strange to him somehow. As if he remembered the faces, but something about them had changed.

"Maximus?" The soldier was addressing him now.

"You and the lady should go and see the doctor as well. Follow Antonia. She will help you." The man sighed at his friend's hesitation. "For the love of the Gods, Maximus, you weren't this stubborn when you were yourself….go!"

Slowly, the dark-haired man did as he was asked, jumping from his mount and then indicating that Hildegarde should do the same. "They want us to see a doctor."

With a look of reluctance, the German girl obeyed.

  
  


*

  
  


Antonia stared at her face in the mirror. It seemed so long since she had

sat here before. She smiled faintly, thinking back to the evening not so long ago when Quintus had barged into her room. How much she had changed. Looking into the little polished silver surface, she was dismayed to see how hollow her cheeks looked, and how brown her skin had grown in the merciless winter sun.

"Your uncle inquires if you will be attending lunch, my lady."

Antonia looked up as one of the ladies-in-waiting strode into the room and made a sketchy curtsey. Her mistress frowned and steeled herself to rise.

"Yes." She replied. "I am almost ready."

Antonia gestured for the slave to help her into her dress- a thin tunica

made of dark blue silk and trimmed with satin ribbons. She held her arms to

her sides as the slave wound the heavy golden chain that secured the bodice

around her waist and between her breasts, cinching it at last in the rear.

She took a final look in the mirror, and then walked back outside.

The walk to the triclinium was short, and she was pleased to see that the

emperor had not yet arrived. She took her accustomed place, at his left, and

settled her head against the plush pillow at the end of the couch, grateful

that this final encounter- though it promised to be unpleasant- was all that

stood between her and a good afternoon's sleep.

"Antonia?"

The woman sat up again almost immediately at the sound of Quintus' voice. 

"Quintus!" She looked him over carefully, "You look well."

He gave her a tired smile. "I feel much better. A bath and shave have made all the difference in the world."

Almost subconcsiouly, she let her hands wander to his chin, marveling at

the smoothness which met her fingertips.

Quintus pressed his lips firmly together. "Antonia, I wanted to speak to

you about this morning. I was going to tel you…that is…" The legatus looked

at his hands. "You asked me what I regretted, and-"

"Antonia!"

The two friends jumped apart as quickly as if the emperor's voice had been the crack of a whip near their backs.

"Caesar!" Quintus said quickly, his embarrassed flush showing easily on his freshly shaven cheeks.

"Uncle." Antonia said softly.

"Thank the Gods!" Marcus Aurelius said, rushing toward them both. "I never thought I would see either of you again!"

  
  
  
  


42

"General, it's time to rest."

_Cicero_…. A voice seemed to whisper from the back of his consciousness. The man who is speaking is Cicero.

"General?" The young man tilted his head to the side, and waited for his

master to respond. "Sir? I've prepared your bed. You need to sleep….."

"Hildegarde!" Match said firmly. "I have to find her…"

"She's been taken care of." The man said firmly. "She is resting as well.

You will see her when you awaken."

"But-"

"Sir, you really must come to bed."

Match looked reluctantly over his shoulder but all he saw was the endless rows of white cloth. He would have no idea how to find the girl without this servant's help. He would have to trust him.

"Follow me…" 

Match was vaguely aware that he was being spoken to like a child- as

though he had lost his senses, rather than his memory, but he was too disoriented to protest. He walked after his guide to the largest tent in the center of the camp, and then ducked his head as they entered the maze of passageways inside.

"Here, sir. Your tent." 

The man laid his hand lightly on his master's shoulder and steered him toward the cushion-strewn mattress in the center of the chamber. "I will wake you shortly, if you…"

Match took two steps into the room and then stopped.

The smell….

He turned his head to the side, noticing an odd little altar in the center

of the room. He strode toward it slowly, picking up one of the objects

sitting on top….

It was a figurine….a little boy…..

_My son._

Match felt all his breath rush out in a gasp. Like lightning sparking

across he sky, his memories returned in a single flash.

_Marcus…Selene…Home…_

His breath quickened as the picures scrolled quickly through his mind.

_Scarto…Argento…the Felix legions…Quintus….Caesar...Lucilla…Valerius_…

"Sir?" Cicero's voice hinted at his alarm. "Sir, do you need the doctor?'

"No." 

Maximus blinked his eyes, trying to coax himself back to the present. This

was his room. His camp. His army, his…

"What is it sir?….Sir?'

"It's okay, Cicero." Maximus said gently. 

"I remember."

  
  


*

  
  


Hildegarde looked around the the tent where she had been led suspiciously. There didn't appear to be any guards making sure that she stayed where she was put, and there weren't any people that seemed ready to hurt her, but she didn't trust the Romans, and she wanted, desperately, to be home.

Where was Match? Her heart constricted with longing.

Not Match, _Maximus_. She reminded herself. Then a fresh sense of pain

pierced her heart as she contemplated the answer to her question. He had been led away to a bath shortly after the doctor had declared them both sound... headed away in the direction of the woman…of his wife.

They were together right now.

Hildegarde's imagination tortured her. They were in a tent like this one,

on a soft bed, he was taking her into his arms….

No. She wouldn't think it.

If he was happy, if he was safe, then she would be happy too.

She had known that this day would come- she had simply prayed that it would not come so soon. She had expected to be better prepared.

Shivering miserably in the smooth, unfamiliar garment that she had been

provided, Hildegarde stepped toward the bed and tried to settle down. She

realized, for the first time, that they had never planned what would happen

to her when she arrived at the camp. Was she a prisoner? Would she be sent

away? Would she be enslaved….All of the possibilities scrolled through her

mind, but none of them conjured fear enough to help her forget what had

already happened.

Match was gone.

Only Maximus remained.

  
  


43

  
  


Antonia collapsed on her bed, burying her face in the pillow to muffle

the sound of her tears. There was no need to hold them in any longer. She

was safe, at last, but with the safety had come an end to all her dreams.

Marcus Aurelius was sending her home and, even worse, Quintus was happy that she would be gone.

She sniffled miserably, thinking back to the serious look on her face

before her uncle had joined them for dinner. "You asked me what I regretted"…he had said. He was going to tell her that he regretted the things that he had said to her….what they had done...maybe it was a blessing Caesar had interrupted him, so she had not be forced to hear them. Antonia curled in her bed and tried to sleep but something prevented her from doing so...After a while she realized she was missing the feeling of Quintus' arm around her waist and the warmth of his chest pressed against her back. The tears became a flood.

  
  


*

  
  


On the otherside of the Praetorium another person was trying to rest without success. Maximus' mind was fevered as he thought about all that happened to him in just a few short weeks. Now he remembered everything, from the ambush in which he had been wounded to his escape that morning and confusion, shame, pain, and frustration were roiling within him.

Once more his thoughts returned to Hildegarde and he groaned aloud. It was too soon for him to rationalize what had occurred, but he was sure of one thing: there had been much more than lust among them. That certainty was breaking his heart.

Maximus closed his eyes and Hildegarde's image appeared. He remembered how frightened she had looked when they had separated after the doctor's visit.....She must be terrified to be all alone in a foreign place.

"I must go to see how she is." Maximus got up from his bed and called,

"Cicero!"

"General?" replied the manservant poking his head in the room.

"There did they take Hildegarde?"

"She is in one of the guest rooms, on the left side of the Praetorium."

"Thank you. I am going there now. If I am needed, you know where I am."

"Yes, Sir."

Maximus left the room and walked along the hallways of the Praetorium,

looking in all the tents reserved for guests until he found the one which hosted Hildegarde. He stopped and took a deep breath before stepping inside.

  
  


*

Hildegarde jumped on her feet when she saw the Roman soldier enter and her breath caught in her throat as she realized who he was.

"Mat...Maximus," she whispered, regarding him with a misture of awe and fear. His hair had been cropped short, his beard was again well trimmed. He was wearing his blood-red tunic with a leather cuirass on. To Hildegarde's eyes, he seemed familiar and foreign at the same time. She looked away. Something inside told her he had regained his memory and she could not bear to read rage or pity in his eyes.

Maximus walked near the woman and took her hand gently raising it to his lips.

Hildegarde's head snapped up she met his eyes. In them, she read confusion and sadness, but not rage or hate.

They each stayed silent for several long moments until she said at last, "You remember everything, don't you?"

Maximus nodded, "Yes."

Hildegarde bit her lower lip, "You are married......" It was formulated

like a sentence but in reality it was a question. A question to which the woman hoped agaist all odds he would answer 'no'.

"Yes....I am married." Maximus said slowly continuing to look her. There were so many things that he wanted to say, so many things he _needed_ to say, but he was still conflicted, and so he kept his feeling tucked inside.

"To Selene....She is a beautiful woman...." Hildegarde lowered her eyes.

"How do you know her name? How do you know what she looks like?"

"You called her name in one of your nightmares.....as for her looks- I have seen her often in these last few days." Hildegarde tried to add a bit of humor to her voice but failed miserably.

"In the last few days?" Maximus was puzzled. When he finally understood he smiled slightly, "That woman is not my wife. Her name is Antonia."

"Oh." Hildegarde sounded defeated and she turned her head away.

Realization stuck Maximus, "You freed her because you believed she was my wife..." He whispered in awe, touched by her supreme act of love.

The young German nodded and found the courage to look in his eyes again, "I had always known our time together was a stolen season...I....I could stand to see you go away but I could not bear to see hate in your gaze..." Tears

began to run along her cheeks and Maximus pulled her against his chest, fighting -- and losing - a battle to keep his own emotions in check. .

  
  


*

  
  


The pair was still wrapped in each other arms when Valerius poked his head inside the tent and cleared his throat gently calling, "General?"

Maximus and Hildegarde separated at once, and Valerius lowered his eyes to give his commander the time to compose himself and brush away the moisture that streaked his cheeks.

"Yes?" Asked Maximus, relieved his voice sounded normal.

"We have news about the Germans.....and it is not good. Legatus Clarus said I should inform you."

"All right. Call a meeting in the briefing room. I will arrive at once."

"Yes General." Valerius nodded, and walked away.

Once more alone, Maximus switched back to the Quadi language and said, "I must go to attend a meeting. I will be back later, all right?" 

Hildegarde nodded.

"Try to rest a bit, " he advised, "The time will pass more quickly."

The young woman nodded again and after a final glace Maximus left her.

  
  
  
  


44

  
  


Quintus milled with the other officers in the Praetorium, aware that their eyes were looking at him curiously- remembering the wild-haired, scraggly bearded man they had rescued just a few hours before, and wondering about the ordeal he had undergone amidst the Quadi. The legatus disappointed their hopes. He was not in the mood to talk. He was in the mood to think. He hoped that the meeting went quickly.

He had almost said it. Quintus felt his jaw tighten in frustration at the realization of just how close he had been to telling Antonia how he felt once and for all. He was tired of interruptions, and tired of wondering if she felt the same...Surely after all they had been through together there was at least hope.

Or was there?

Antonia had seemed so different at dinner. Wrapped in her smooth silk, her wild curls subjugated beneath a golden tiara, she seemed once again like the princess who had arrived from Rome. She had sat through dinner quietly, barely able to reach his eyes....

"General."

Quintus looked up as the calls of the other men announced Maximus' return to the room.

"Gentlemen." The Spaniard answered sternly.

Clearly, Maximus had changed as well. This time, however, the transformation was welcome. _He remembers_. Quintus though with a wave of relief. He shared a look with Valerius, and then the lower officer began to speak.

"Sir, the situation with the tribes has become desperate during the weeks that you were gone. As our scouts reported, the Marcomanni have been moving up along the river recruiting allies for a strike. We believe that their object was the supply depot set to leave for Vindobona but, with your disappearance and the snow, those plans were delayed."

The commander nodded as Valerius continued. "Several of our orders were lost in the raid where you …went missing." He said slowly, not sure if the whispered tales about the nature of the man's disappearance were rumor or fact. "Included in the orders captured by the enemy was sensitive information concerning troop strength, both here and in the south , as well as a tactical assesment of the fort. Obviously, we've changed what we can, but it would be best to take decisive measures before the enemy has time to develop a comprehensive plan."

"An offensive attack?" Maximus asked, distantly. 

"Yes sir. That is what the emperor proposes."

Maximus nodded slowly, looking at the map before him, and then perusing a list of the documents that had been intercepted.

"There....there is one more thing, sir."

"Yes?"

"The village of the Brown Bear...the tribesmen who...who had you, sir. They claim that we are holding one of their women prisoner and that if we do not release her, they will attack."

The last sentence bought a snicker from all the assembled men, save two. Maximus' expression darkened like a threatening cloud, and Quintus' lips were firmly neutral. He watched his commander's expression carefully. Only a few hours ago, Maximus had been one of them. He could accept, as easily as the other men, that the little band of barbarians would be no threat on their own- but he didn't want to crush them just because they could.

"Why risk the annoyance?" Quintus said quickly, hoping to cover Maximus' lapse. "Facing the Germans here will delay our move to the North, and could fatigue the men. We will simply send the girl back."

"No." Maximus said quickly.

The men stared.

"The girl stays." Maximus said darkly, and then he strode quickly from the room.

Quintus felt nervousness gnaw at the pit of his stomach. The general's memory had returned- but not everything was back to normal. He had never known a husband as dedicated as his friend. He knew that the man had not foresaken Selene....but perhaps the barbarian girl meant more to him than the Legatus had first suspected...perhaps she was not just a warm body to lie against in the night. Clarus felt a pang of sympathy for his friend. He had only recently discovered what real love was like, but he already understood that along with the pleasure, came a new capacity for pain.

"What are you staring at?" Quintus snapped at the slack-lawed lieutenants who milled about. "You're dismissed. The general will deal with the German."

  
  


*

  
  


Quintus ducked out of the meeting room and headed back through the Praetorium. It was too early to sleep, too late for lunch, and not yet time to begin preparing for battle. He would be alone with his thoughts for the long afternoon. Sighing at the prospect, he stopped in front of the hallway which led to the imperial quarters.

Antonia.

She was so close. Perhaps he could go to see her for just a moment. She had at least seemed willing to be his friend. Even that much would be better than the misery he felt at the prospect of never seeing her again.

"I'm sorry, sir." The serving girl who sat outside Antonia's chamber said quickly, rising to her feet as she saw the legatus approach. "My lady is sleeping...perhaps you could return later?"

Quintus frowned. Had Antonia instructed the girl to say that? To send him away? He started to back off, and then, barely believed his ears as he said smoothly: "I'm sorry, it's important business.", and breezed into the room, leaving the shocked servant staring after him.

The attendant hadn't lied. Antonia was asleep. She was curled around one of the cushions, holding it tightly to her chest. Fresh tears were drying on her cheeks.

"Antonia?" Quintus moved forward and tenderly brushed the dampness away. He cringed as the girl awakened with a start. Her sleep-softened features betrayed confusion for a moment, and then she smiled.

"Quintus." The happiness in her face made his heartbeat quicken. She was pleased to see him after all!

_Friendly. Calm. Professional_. Quintus' inner voice had coached him on how to behave, but in her presence, the careful instructions were ignored.

"Wh-why are you here?"

"I came to say goodbye.*

Like the snuffing of a candle, the light in her face was gone. "Goodbye?"

"Yes. The armies are marching North to engage the Germans. I will leave tomorrow before dawn. When I return...." 

"I will be gone."

He nodded. 

"To Rome." Antonia said miserably. "To another hateful husband." Her chin quivered defiantly.

Quintus forced a smile he did not feel. "Now Antonia, they cannot all be hateful."

Antonia bit her lip. "Only one would not be hateful to me...." the Legatus held his breath. Only one? Had she decided on a man then? Had there never been hope for him at all? 

Antonia looked miserably at her hands, then hugged them around her knees before finishing in a strangled voice. "...and he is going away."

Quintus felt as though the world had stopped. Was it possible that she meant him? No. She was speaking of Maximus, or.....

"Oh, Quintus!" Antonia's voice interrupted his thoughts."If only want to be my friend then tell me now. In spite of my best intentions, I have fallen in love with you all over again, and I don't want to have to walk in on you with a camp follower find out how you feel."

"You-?" 

This was what he had hoped to hear. No, it was _better_ than what he had hoped to hear, but still the soldier barely believed what he had heard. His mouth opened and closed a dozen times, searching for the words to express his reaction, but he found none. Finally, frustrated, he gave his body leave to express what his mind could not, gathering her into his arms and burying her beneath a passionate kiss.

It was several moments before they pulled away, both of them breathless and smiling. Antonia moved forward to kiss him again, but Quintus stopped her. Simply holding her had begun to rekindle his longing for what they had shared on the floor of the German hut. This was neither the time, nor the place for such pleasures.

"Patience..." he whispered against her hair, admonishing himself, more than his lover. "Soon...." He pulled the woman to his chest, stroking her hair gently.

"Oh, I wish you didn't have to go away...."

"But I do- and you do as well."

"Me! But I thought-?"

Quintus laughed. "Careful, Antonia. I will think that you are using my poor heart only to secure more horserides in the woods." He kissed her forehead. "Caesar is quite right. It is not safe for you here, and you must go to Vindobona. I promise to come for you soon."

"How soon?"

"Two months....perhaps three. Maybe by then I will think of a way to convince the emperor to give his niece to a poor soldier whose family isn't even in the senate."

Antonia frowned. "Oh, Quintus. He won't think of you that way- not if I am in love with you." She smiled softly. "Your family is rich, even if the money does come by trade- and I am patrician enough for the both of us." She smiled for a moment, and then blushed, realising that her typically frank speech could be taken as an insult.

The legatus laughed aloud again. "Oh, Antonia. I am glad that you have returned to army life- even 12 years in a palace could not tame your tongue." Seeing that she was more chastened then he intended, he kissed her tenderly again. "Rest now. Valerius and the Praetorians will take you away tomorrow morning, and I will come for you sooner than you think."

"Hurry." She begged, lowering her head sleepily toward the pillows again.

Quintus smiled. "I promise."

  
  


45

  
  


Maximus walked quickly thorough the Praetorium and headed back to Hildegarde's tent. He entered slowly and found her curled in a tight ball on the bed. His heart constricted upon seeing how fragile she looked. She had always seemed strong, determined and bold in the time they spent together but now she looked so small, so lost in the too large tunic they had given to her. He wanted to embrace her and tell her everything was fine, but he respected her too much to lie. He had never lied to Selene and he would no do so to Hildegarde now.

Maximus kelt near the bed and gently caressed the girl's cheek. Hildegarde awoke immediately and sat up, looking scared until she recognized his face. She smiled shyly to him and Maximus did the same.

"We must talk," he said quietly in Quadi.

Hildegarde nodded mutely, dreading his next words.

Maximus sat on the bed near her, a discreet distance between their bodies.

"As you know, I have been in a meeting with my people and I have been informed that your tribe threaten to attack this camp if we don't give you back to them."

"Me?" Hildegarde was surprised. Her people, who treated her like an outcast, wanted to risk an almost sure certain against the Romans for her?

"Yes, they think we are holding you as a hostage." Maximus smiled slightly. "I imagine that Godeoc has something to do with their decision…"

"But I am not a prisoner...?"

"Of course not!"

"What did your men reply to my tribe?"

"Nothing, yet." Maximus sighed and then added, "My men wanted to give you back to your people but I....I..said no."

"Why?"

"I…I am not certain....I need time to sort out my feelings. You see, Match did not have Maximus' memories, but Maximus remembers everything Match did, or said… or felt." His look pleaded with her to understand. 

"We can talk tomorrow or the next day....I will return to my tribe so they will retire and then came back here. We can meet near the lake where you take your foal to graze." Hildegarde looked at the general expectantly.

"It is not that simple....I will leave tomorrow for the north. Other tribes

are attacking our forts and I am needed there. It may take many months before I

return here." Maximus shook his head.

Hildegarde inhaled deeply....._Months_. She did not like the sound of that

word but she knew she had no choice. For the good of her mother, of Godeoc

and the rest of her village, she had to go back. She had a duty to do, just as

Maximus had his.

"I will wait for you, Maximus. When you return, send a messager to my

village. Tell him to go to my rock near the stream and leave a piece of

red wool. I promise to visit the rock everyday and to meet you by the lake

the day after the discovery of the signal." Hildegarde fell silent and waited

for his answer.

Maximus considered her words carefully and then nodded. She was right: the war against her village had to be avoided and it was better for her to wait

for him among her people than alone in the castrum. "All right, we will do

as you wish. I will escort you home at once." He rose on his feet and

reached out a hand.

"No!" Hildegarde stood up, "They must not see you! They must not know you are a Roman!" she spoke with such vehemence that Maximus was shocked.

"You are ashamed of what I am?" He murmured turning his head away.

"No! I am proud to love you! But you have seen how I live… and how stubborn my people are......" 

"It's all right, I understand." Maximus looked at his hands, "So this is a

goodbye...."

"Yes..."

"Valerius -- the big man who found us this morning --will escort you to the gates..."

Hildegarde nodded silently, her green eyes lost in Maximus' blue ones.

Almost without being aware of it they slipped in each other arms once more and hugged tightly. Maximus found her lips for goodbye kiss but passion took control of their bodies and then they separated they were both breathing heavily.

"Hildegarde....I...."

She stopped him by placing her finger across his lips. "We will talk later. Now go and send your man Valerius here.....I am sure my people are getting

nervous."

Maximus felt his heart constrict at her forced show of bravery, but he knew he had to go quickly lest they began to cry again. And so, with a final look and a deep bow, he left the tent and went to fetch Valerius.

  
  
  
  


46

"Good morning, uncle." Antonia said cheerily as she drifted into the little room where they shared their breakfast. "How did you rest?"

"Very well." Caesar said, arching an eyebrow. They had been at Augusta Vindelicorum for more than two and a half months, but Antonia's behavior continued to astonish him. He had expected her to howl in protest when he announced that they were withdrawing to the more civilized- the term used loosely- existence of the frontier town while the Felix Legions battled in the north. Instead, she had been a perfect lady, smiling almost every time that he saw her, and acting the part of a princess nearly as well as Lucilla. Caesar suspected that her brush with the Barbarians had made the girl more appreciative of her easy life.

Then again, perhaps it was something else.

"Antonia, you are smiling like a woman in love." He said tentatively. By the time that his niece had reappeared from the woods- tanned, and covered in mud- he had surrendered any hope of allying her to the general. They seemed barely to glance at each other during the last, quiet meal that they shared before the legions departure. But since that time- what a change had come over the girl! She could talk of nothing but the legion's return, voicing a constant, and particular interest in the welfare of the officers.

Antonia did not respond to his tease. She merely smiled crypitically and asked "Any news from the front today?", as though she were reading her uncle's mind and responding on cue.

The Emperor shook his head. "No news. The legions are marching South again now. I doubt they will send any more reports before their arrival."

"South!" it was impossible to overlook the sudden bloom of color that rose to the girls cheeks. "Will they be back soon?"

"Another week."

Antonia smiled mysteriously. "Another week." She repeated, dropping the little piece of honeyed bread she had been about to eat and losing herself in daydreams.

The emperor sighed. "Antonia, what is it that you are hiding. I have known you many years, and I have never seen you carrying on as you are now..."

"Carrying on?"

"Yes- smiling, laughing....singing yesterday afternoon while you were walking through the halls."

Antonia blushed. "I'm merely happy, uncle."

He gave her a look of disbelief. "About anything particular?"

The flush merely deepened.

"Anyone?"

Antonia bit her lip, and the smile intensified. "Perhaps." She said equivocally.

The emperor felt a smile form on his own lips.

"Oh?" he took a bite of his food, keeping his eyes carefully trained on his niece's face. "Someone in the legions, I take it..." he said, trying to keep the comment offhand. "An officer?"

"Well....." the girl squirmed under his scrutiny, finally settling on her usual reply. "Perhaps."

Marcus Aurelius felt a surge of excitement as the pieces fell into place at last. His plan hadn't failed after all- it was merely delayed.

"I am happy to hear that." He said earnestly. "I was worried about you, my dear. You have been so lonely...and you deserve happiness this time around, I think." added, referring to her former marriage. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

Antonia looked at her lap. "I was afraid that you wouldn't approve."

"Not approve?" Caesar's face was all astonishment. "How could I not approve? An officer of my finest regiment?"

"But his family...."

"Now, now...." her uncle gave her an encouraging glance. "That is nothing to worry about! There are plenty of new men who rise to prominence in the army...think of Gaius Marius...Vespasian...." He grinned, "Even, to a degree, myself. You won't have any trouble from me, my dear- and his family can hardly object."

"No." She said softly, taking up the piece of bread again. "I guess not."

"I wondered why you had such a transformation after our return- but my dear, before you dissappeared, I had not idea that you liked him at all. You always seemed so awkward around him."

"A....childhood spat." Antonia said quickly. "Nothing more. We have resolved it now. After being in the camp....things were so...different..." her tone was dreamy.

Marcus Aurelius nodded, satisfied with the explanation. "Well, congratulations, my dear. I wish you all the best."

"Thank you, uncle." Antonia said.

Her smile increased again.

  
  


*

  
  


Maximus Deciums Meridas' feelings could not possibly have been more different than Antonia's as he led the column of tired legionnaires south again from Castra Regina. They had marched for two straight weeks, fought for another five, and were marching again. Each man was bone weary and grateful that they were almost home. Only their general missed the turmoil and rigor of battle- at least it had distracted him- numbed him from his pain.

He loved Selene.

He loved Hildegarde, but his wife held the prior claim. 

There was no way to sort things fairly in his heart, and so he resorted to the law- to abstract, impersonal rules in the hopes that they would convince him that the decision that the had made was just. He had gotten a letter from Selene just before leaving for the front. She had told him about the house, the harvest, their son....the love that he felt for her had returned twofold, and he felt more torn than ever. 

He would go home to Hispania as soon as possible. Quintus had mentioned returning to Rome, but maybe, if he explained the situation, his friend's plans could be delayed. The legatus didn't have a family to miss. Maximus felt, suddenly, as though he were on the verge of losing his.

He had to choose.

Hildegarde, or Selene.

  
  


47

  
  


The news of the legions' return arrived to Antonia through her chief maid. The old woman was a rounded, affectionate creature who had been in her service for many years and who know her mistress very well, being the only one to know fully about the man who had stolen her mistress's heart.

The servant arrived in the room and forgetting her manners she called, "My Lady, he is home!"

Antonia raised her head from the book she was reading and asked, "What?"

"Your soldier, my Lady, he is back!"

"Quintus?!" Antonia jumped to her feet, her heart racing.

"Yes, the officers have just crossed the gates! He will be here in the Praetorium soon!"

"Oh my! I have to get ready! I am a mess! The legions weren't expected until tomorrow! Oh Gods! Flaminia take out my blue dress! Pomponia, prepare a bath! Clodia you must…."

Antonia's frantic preparations were interrupted by a teasing voice from the doorway, "I hope that _I_ am the cause all this haste!"

Antonia turned around and saw Quintus at the threshold to her chamber. He was wearing a pristinely clean uniform, with his helmet tucked under his arm. She stared at him open mouthed and then said slowly, "You don't look like a man who has been marching for two weeks."

Quintus smiled and stepped inside, walking to her. "I wanted to see you as soon as I arrived so I took my time this morning in my bath. I was almost left behind!"

They stared at each other, so happy to be together that words were not necessary. In the end they fell in each other arms and lost themselves in their private world, as Antonia's servants slipped quietly out of the tent.

"Did you miss me?" Quintus asked after a while.

"Yes....and you?"

"I thought about you every day. But my longing was compensated by knowing you were safe here."

"Instead I spent my days worrying about you....." Antonia kissed his cheek and then touched his back, almost as if she wanted to be certain that he was all right."

"I am sorry my love, but now it is over. How was life here?"

"Usually quite boring.....Except for the time that I spent with my uncle preparing the ground for you to ask him for my hand...."

"Oh?!" Quintus frowned sharply. "And did we decide that we were going to marry? I don't remember having spoken of it..." Quintus sounded so serious that for a moment Antonia felt her heart skip a beat. Then a teasing smile appeared on his face. 

"YOU!!!" Antonia shouted in ourtage, and Quintus burst into laughter.

"I think, soldier, that is time for you to declare your true intentions!"

"Hmm....you are a little too bossy for my taste......but I love you all the same." Quintus feigned a resigned sigh and then asked, "So, general, what are your terms? May I stand or I must go down on my knees?"

"On your knees, of course." Antonia replied, an impertinent grin upon her lips.

"I see...no pity for my poor, battle-weary old body. " the legatus grumbled as he took his position on the floor in front of the young woman. Quintus took Antonia's hand and raised his eyes to meet hers. Any trace of teasing had melted from his features. Only love and determination remained. "My Lady Antonia Claudia, " he began, "I ask you to grant me the great honor of becoming your husband."

Antonia's eyes shined with happiness as she knelt in front of him and replied, "And I ask _you_ for the honor of becoming your wife, Quintus Clarus."

Quintus nodded, a radiant smile slowly spreading on his face. Antonia did the same. With a cry they threw their arms around each other and began to laugh and cry at the same time, their hearts overhelmed with joy. 

  
  


*

  
  


The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur. Antonia told Quintus that her uncle was ready to hear his proposal- that he expected it, and urged him to obtain permission as soon as possible. She had waited long enough while the armies marched throughout the north. She wanted to spend the rest of the winter curled up where she belonged- in Legatus Clarus' arms.

"Did you ask him?" She whispered as they arrived together for dinner. She had hinted to her uncle earlier to 'expect a meeting' with one of the officers that afternoon, and she was anxious to learn how the interview had gone. 

"Not yet." He answered in an equally low voice. "I didn't have a chance to find him alone....He was holed up with Maximus almost all day..." He squeezed her hand. "Soon...."

They drifted apart as they entered the dining chamber, Quintus ignoring Antonia's exasperated sigh. The room was filled nearly to capacity. Augusta Vindelicorum was more secure than the little castrum where they had been before. There were civilian farms and businesses scattered along the frontier. In addition to the officers, nearly every person within a three hour drive had been invited to welcome the legions home.

"Ah, Antonia! You look lovely, as usual." The emperor rose his eyes to his relative and gestured for her to take a seat facing his couch- and facing General Maximus as well. "Legatus." He nodded his head, giving Quintus only a fraction of a second of attention before returning his gaze to his spanish general.

"Perhaps, now that Antonia is back , we will be able to wipe that frown from your face, Maximus." Caesar said, with a grin. "Antonia has certainly been happy since your return from the woods..."

Maximus only nodded, his expression, if anything, darkening. Antonia noticed the look, and felt sorry for the poor General. It was unfair that she had been made so happy by the very events that had rendered her friend devastated. Quintus himself had explained the circumstances surrounding the German girl who had helped them home- he told her that, while his memories were suppressed- Maximus had been taken in by the lonely healer and nursed to health, that he had fallen in love with her...but when his memories returned, he found that he was still in love with Selene as well. He was doing the honorable thing, Antonia decided. The German girl had to know the risk she was taking- had to realize that there was no way that two people from such different worlds could ever be together even if their situations were different...but, of course, that could hardly dull their pain.

"...and Antonia has given me reason to suspect that there will be a happy announcement shortly..." the ruler continued, a grin upon his face.

"Uncle!"Antonia's eyes widened. If Quintus hadn't spoken to him yet, then he wasn't ready for the news to be public.

Again, the general only bobbed his head.

"You don't want to wait too long..." Marcus Aurelius cautioned. "Strike while the iron is hot, isn't that what they say?"

Maximus dropped his head. "Forgive me, Caesar, I'm sorry if I'm being impolite. I don't....feel well.....tired..." he mumbled.

The emperor's expression faded, and he gave Antonia a look of concern. 

"He will be fine." She said quietly.

"Is anything wrong?" Caesar whispered back as the General looked away. 

"Oh, no. He has just had some.....personal struggles....his wife...." She was intentionally vague, unaware of how much Caesar had been told.

"Oh, of course." The emperor nodded his head sensibly and then said in a normal tone. "You're a very honorable man to care about your wife and son, but surely you know

that I will take care of them."

"Take care of them, Caesar?" the expression on Maximus' face turned abruptly from sadness to confusion.

"Yes, money, shelter, a new husband....they will be fine..."

"A new...a _new husband_?" Maximus swallowed painfully. "I don't understand, Caesar."

"Well, you can't expect her to pine after you forever when you've moved on to a new love. That's hardly fair."

"Caesar I'm...I'm not..." Maximus sat up on the couch, his spine stiffening. Antonia watched the display with surprise. It wasn't like her uncle to be so involved in the personal lives of his officers- and it was certainly out of character to be mean...she was surprised anyone had even mentioned the German to her uncle. And, to suggest that Maximus would leave his wife....

"You needn't be defensive!" The emperor said harshly, his own expression betraying surprise at the Spaniard's reaction. "All I'm saying is, after the divorce, arrangements will have to be made."

"I am NOT going to divorce my wife."

The general was angry now- smart enough not to lose his temper with the emperor, but the color was clearly showing in his face. 

"NOT GOING TO DIVORCE YOUR WIFE?" Marcus Aurelius thundered. Antonia felt a sense of foreboding as, around them, the entire tent fell silent. "Then how, PRAY TELL, do you think that you are going to marry my niece?"

Antonia stared.

Maximus blinked, not really knowing what to say. When he had recovered from the moment of shock, he looked in disbelief from the face of Marcus Aurelius to Antonia. "Your-your niece?" he asked at last in a very small voice.

"Yes!" Marcus Aurelius said indignantly. "_My_ niece. She told me how things hadvebecome between you. Don't think I can't guess what happened while the pair of you were off gallivanting through the woods, and if you think...."

"Oh, Gods." Antonia whispered under her voice. At last, she could see what had happened. Her uncle had never understood the true object of her affections. He was still intent on marrying her to Maximus!

"Uncle!" She said, standing up and cutting off his rant. "Please stop! Maximus never promised to marry me. You're...." She waved her hands helplessly, painfully aware that every eye in the tent was trained on her, and unable to conjure the words to say.

"What do you mean, he was never going to marry you? You me last week...."

"I was speaking of Quintus!" She said wishing that she could melt into the floor.

"Quintus? Quintus CLARUS?" The look on Caesar's face was dumbfounded. "You aren't serious!"

"Yes, uncle- I am.."

The emperor made another sound of frustration and then he glared at each party in turn. First Antonia, then Maximus, and finally, Quintus.

"Well," he said at last. "Perhaps I am not as hungry as I thought."

The tent was perfectly quiet as the emperor, embarrassed and confused, swept from the dinner chamber.

"Well..." It was Quintus' voice that broke the silence. "_That_ certainly went well..."

48

  
  


The rest of the meal passed very awkwardly. Antonia's face looked as though all hope had died, and Quintus wished that he could reassure her. He felt certain that the emperor's statements had merely been bluster to hide his embarassment- and not an indication that he would withold his permission for the match. Still, she looked so desolate, that he resolved to clear the misunderstanding immediately after dinner.

In spite of his confidence, he was surprised when Caesar agreed to see him immediately. 

"I'm glad you've come." The old man said tiredly. "I was about to send for you..."

"Caesar, I-"

The Emperor raised his hand, and Quintus obediantly fell silent. "I'm sorry for what I said earlier. I didn't mean to imply that you were unsuitable for my niece merely...not what I expected." The emperor managed a tired grin. "I am spoiled, Legatus- too used to issuing orders and expecting them to be followed. It never occurred to me that Antonia would fall in love on her own."

Quintus nodded his head.

"You do love her, then?"

"Yes, sire. Very much."

"She deserves it...I am sure that you deserve it too." He turned away. "Poor Maximus..." he added almost as an afterthought. "I only heard the full story just now...what a shock he must have had!" The emperor smiled, and then sighed. "But it is over now."

"Yes."

Marcus Aurelius straighted his posture to one which indicated that the preliminary banter was concluded. "In any event, I understand that you want to marry my niece."

"Yes."

"Soon?"

"As soon as I can return to Rome, sire. As you know, my father is still living, and I will require his permission."

"Do you doubt that he will give it?"

Quintus grinned at the absurdity of the question. "How could he?" Then, his expression darkend. "Caesar, you don?t think that I am asking just to associate my family with...."

The emperor shrugged. "Young men have done worse., and I had to ask. Antonia is my responsibility, and I want to do well for her....and I think that you will do very nicely." Looking tired, Caesar settled into a chair, lifting a glass of wine to his lips. "Since you do not think

that your father will object, I am free to bestow my wedding present upon you now."

"Caesar?"

"A quick wedding....that is what Antonia wants, it is not?"

Quintus nodded. 

"And what you want?" The old man waited for a nod, then continued. "I am _Pontifex Maximus_, the highest priest in all of Rome, I think that I have enough authority to perform the ceremony. Tell Antonia to name the day."

Quintus smiled. "I shall..." his lips curled upward on the end. "But I should warn you, Sire, I am fairly certain that she will name tomorrow!"

  
  


In the end, Antonia was persuaded to wait a week. Marcus Aurelius remarked to himself that Quintus and Antonia formed one of the happiest couples he had seen. He had misjudged them both from the start- thinking Antonia too impulsive, and Clarus too cautious, to ever find love.

  
  


EPILOGUE

  
  


"Advice is judged by its results, not intentions..." the Emperor paraphrased Marcus Tullius Cicero, while Maximus smiled indulgently. "And by that standard, I have failed miserably. I shall never play matchmaker again."

They were both looking to the central yard of the Praetorium where Quintus was about to scoop Antonia in his arms to enter the flower-strewn tent where they would spend the first night of their marriage. A lot of officers, some of them slightly drunk, were gathered around the couple offering bawdy advice and suggestions. However, in deference of the Emperor's presence and Antonia's status as his niece, nobody sang the infamous obscene song that often accompanied the final part of the marriage cerimonies. Marcus Aurelius and Maximus added their voices to the well-wishing chorus which followed the couple's retreat and then walked back to the Emperor's private study.

"So, all is well what end well." Caesar commented, indicating that Maximus should sit down. "It was not exactly what I hoped when I asked Antonia to accompany me here, but I am happy anyway for the result. "

"Quintus is a good man and he loves Antonia very much. They are made for each other."

Marcus Aurelius nodded slowly, "Yes." Then he tilted his head on the side and studying his generals face added softly, "You seem tired to me, Maximus."

The younger man sighed, "I am tired, Sir. And I need to relax....but it is not easy to do so on the frontier."

"So why don't you go home for a couple of months? After the last heavy

defeat you inflicted to them, the tribes are bound to stay quiet for a whiles, and Valerius should be able to take care of the every-day problems."

Maximus smiled faintly, "Thank you Caesar. I really appreciate your offer. With your permission I would like to leave tomorrow."

The emperor frowned. "So soon? But you've only got here...surely, some

rest-"

"Now, Caesar- I need to stop to our camp near Noricum before going home. I didn't get a chance to inspect matters before we left for the North, and I have some ....unfinished business there." His voice faltered at the end.

"I see." The emperor gave Maximus a searching look. "Then go....and

Maximus?"

"Sire?"

"Good luck....I do not envy you."

  
  


*

  
  


Maximus paced back and forth along the lake -shore near the camp, still waiting for Hildegarde. He was beginning to wonder if she intended to do so.

Three days had passed since he had put the piece of red wool near her rock and he had spent them all beside the lake, blind to the perplexed stares of his men. In the beginning he had thought something might had happened to her but a feeling in his soul advised otherwise. Hildegarde was all right and if she she failed to appear, it was because she chose to do so. Maximus felt his heart twinge in his chest, pulled apart by jealousy, sadness and....relief.

During his solitary ride from Vindobona he had pondered and pondered again over his feelings but as hard as he tried he had not be able to reach a decision. How was it possible choose between Selene and Hildegarde? He loved both of them.....

Maximus sat on a rock and lost himself in contemplation of the lake, his head lowered in desperation.

  
  


*

  
  


A week later Maximus left the camp and headed home to Hispania. Hildegarde had never appeared. Finally he had accepted the fact that once again she was the stronger between them. She had decided to spare him the grief of making a decision and to bearing its terrible weight. Before leaving, Maximus turned around a last time and blew a kiss in the direction of Hildegarde's village. 

"Goodbye, my love. May the Gods always protect you." he whispered in the cold, pine-tree scented, winter air before kicking hard Argento's flanks and galop away.

  
  


*

  
  


Hidden by the bushes Hildegarde watched Maximus disappear from her view and from her her life for the last time. Warm tears flooded her eyes. She had spent the last ten days watching the general from afar, seeing how lonely, disperate and troubled he looked as he stayed by the lake. Her decision to remain hidden had not come easily for her but, in the end, she felt that it had been the only one she could make. She knew he could not live in her world and that she could not remain in his. There was also his wife, his Selene, whom he had called for even when he did not remember anything of his life. 

A hand gently touched the German girl's shoulder, urging her to turn away. "You did the right thing, my daughter, for him and for you. And I am sure Match knows it. Now come home, you will take a chill standing here." Rodelind's voice was soft and kind and the young woman nodded.

Hildegarde stood up slowly, balancing her body with a bit of difficulty. She put her hand on her growing belly and caressed it tenderly. A little smile appeared on her lips, as she took comfort from the notion that even if Match was gone, a part of him would remain forever.

"I will never forget you." She whispered beneath her breath.

With one last glance in the direction of the lake, Hildegarde took her mother's hand. Together, they began the trip for home.

  
  


THE END

  
  



End file.
